


Green Light in the Dark

by hopefullydreaming



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Draco kinda gets a redemption, Gen, Good Slytherins, Some angst, The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, canon divergence becomes more apparent from third year on, conflict of ideas, found family undertones, severus snape is still a prick, sirius black has a daughter fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:02:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 46
Words: 184,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23448982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopefullydreaming/pseuds/hopefullydreaming
Summary: As the daughter of Sirius Black, Aurora has a big legacy, one she doesn’t want to carry. Half the Wizarding World call her father a Blood Traitor and the rest call him a Death Eater. She is forever judged by her father and by her name. Raised by her grandmother Walburga, then her great grandfather Arcturus and then her great-aunt Lucretia, she’s always been conflicted about her father, as everyone tells his story slightly different. But when she goes to Hogwarts, Aurora is determined to be known as a Black, but not as Sirius Black’s daughter. One way or another, she will prove everyone wrong, straddling the fine line of morality and blood in the Wizarding World.
Comments: 142
Kudos: 241





	1. Granny Walburga

**Author's Note:**

> (This fic is cross-posted on FF.net.) The rating of this fic may change to teen later, and I will update tags appropriately. For now there are no romances, but this might change. Also, canon-typical violence, attitudes and themes. The first two years will be largely canon-compliant, but larger changes will taken place from third year onwards. (‘Major’ character death refers to Walburga and Arcturus, rather than to major characters in the canon. Later deaths may occur.)

Aurora Black was a small girl even for a two year old, short, with stubby fingers but wide eyes. Her hair was already at her chin, a light reddish brown that she took from her mother whose face she couldn’t quite remember. She stood alone in a spare cot in an unfamiliar bedroom, crying for her papa. The boy in the other cot stared at her; he was shorter and younger than her but he was plumper, and he wasn’t crying yet because his parents were here and he wasn’t scared.

Aurora Black was scared. She didn’t know why, as two year olds rarely do, but she didn’t feel right and she didn’t like this house or this boy and she knew the man and woman who lived here but not well enough and she wanted her papa. Her hands grasped the edge of her cot and the boy opposite her shook his head urgently, and promptly started crying.

Her attempt at escape foiled, Aurora fell back down to sit grumpily on the bed as the boy’s mummy ran in, and held him tightly. “Shush, Neville,” she told him. “It’s alright, sweetheart. Did you get a fright?” Neville cried. “There’s nothing to hurt you here, Nev. Just Aurora.” Neville looked over his shoulder at Aurora, who drew back and pouted. He seemed to be getting an awful lot of attention and cuddles.

“Papa,” she cried out, and Neville’s mummy turned around towards her. “Want Papa!”

Neville’s mummy smiled uncertainly. “Don’t worry, Aurora. Your papa will be here soon, he just has to find Harry.”

“Papa,” Aurora said again, pouting. She knew Harry, but why was her papa with him and not with her? That wasn’t very fair. “Papa!”

Neville’s mummy looked worriedly at Aurora and then at the window, where the sun was already beginning to set on the first day of November. “Your papa’ll be here soon,” she said, less certain this time. “I promise.”

He did not come for Aurora that day nor the next. Instead, at dinnertime when Neville was being fed and Aurora was chasing sweet corn with a plastic fork, there was a sharp knock at the door. Aurora looked up excitedly. “Papa?”

Neville’s mummy and daddy looked anxiously between each other, and his daddy went to answer the door. The voice there didn’t sound like papa; it was a lady’s voice, quiet but stern and authoritative, like the sort of person who would boss Aurora around and tell her off if she got fingerprints on her photo frame, which her grandad had done, but he wasn’t as stern sounding. Aurora frowned, as the door closed and there was a clicking sound over the floor as the visitor entered the house.

She was very tall, Aurora thought, eyes wide. She had high cheekbones and dark hair and she was old, and a little scary. Aurora looked to Neville’s mummy in confusion. She didn’t know this lady. “Aurora,” Neville’s daddy said, and she got down obediently from the table, toddling over. Neville stared at her - he wasn’t very good at walking yet, but Aurora could run when she wanted to. “Come over here. This is your granny Walburga.”

Aurora looked at granny Walburga. She wasn’t her granny. Aurora’s granny was short and smiley and had orangey hair and snuck her sweeties and gave good cuddles and let her run around in the garden. Granny Walburga looked down her nose at Aurora with stern grey eyes and didn’t look like she wanted to see her at all. Aurora pouted and folded her arms. “This isn’t granny.”

Neville’s daddy looked nervous. “I am your grandmother,” said Granny Walburga, and she said grandmother like it was a bad word. “Your father has gotten himself imprisoned.” Aurora didn’t know what that meant. “As such, the responsibility of... caring for you... has been given to me, as your closest living relative.” Aurora stared at her.

“Where’s Papa?”

Granny Walburga pursed her lips. “He is not important.”

Aurora didn’t agree with that. “Where’s Papa?” she demanded, more louder this time. “I want Papa!”

Granny Walburga stood up abruptly. Neville started crying again. “I will be taking her now, Longbottom. The Ministry will be dealing with this.”

Neville’s daddy looked at a loss for what to do. “Well... We’d still be more than happy to-“

Granny Walburga shot him a very sharp look that Aurora didn’t like at all. Neville’s daddy stopped talking. “At least you kept her alive,” she said. She looked at Aurora. “Come with me, girl.”

“Aurora,” she said. “I’m Au-ro-ra.” She said her name slowly so that Granny Walburga understood, but she didn’t look very pleased about it.

She scooped Aurora into her arms tightly, nodded stiffly to the Longbottoms, and then stalked out without another word or a thank you. It was cold outside and Aurora sniffled, looking over her shoulder as the door closed. All she could see of Neville and his family were their outlines in the living room.

“Where we going?” she asked Granny Walburga, who did not answer. She kept walking down the dark street in silence, and then when they came to a quiet corner with no funny cars or motorbikes, she brought out a stick which looked a bit like Papa’s wand but wasn’t, and then Aurora felt very sick as everything disappeared and reappeared in an instant.

She started crying. She didn’t like that feeling at all, and now when she looked around she was in a room she had never been before. It was dark and scary-looking and had a very high ceiling. There weren’t any windows, which she didn’t like, either. Aurora stared up at Granny Walburga as she set her down onto a chair. She didn’t like the chair; it was hard and not squishy and her legs were very high off the floor. She might not be able to jump off it.

“Stop crying,” Granny Walburga hissed at her, face twisted venomously. “I will not have a crying child in my house!”

“I want Papa!” Aurora cried out, looking around, but there was no sign of him. She turned back indignantly to Granny Walburga. “Papa!”

“Your Papa isn’t here,” Granny Walburga spat, and her voice was not nice. Aurora cried harder. “Stop crying, girl!”

“But - but-“ Her lips wobbled. “Where’s Papa?”

Granny Walburga did not reply. “You are staying with me for the foreseeable future,” she said, words pinched. “You will not cry. You will not whine. You will do as you’re told. You will not ask for your papa.”

“But-“

“You will not!” Aurora’s lip trembled again, but she nodded scaredly. Granny Walburga glared down at her. “Are you hungry?” She shook her head. “Good. Kreacher!”

There was a very loud crack and then a strange, wrinkly thing appeared in front of Aurora. She shrieked and scurried backwards, forgetting the height of her chair, and promptly knocked it over. The weird thing caught her just in time, its large eyes wide in alarm. “Mistress?” it said in a croaky voice, turning to Granny Walburga. “Is this the child?”

Granny Walburga nodded. The thing seemed to gasp, and then, setting Aurora down carefully, bent over so that its long nose scraped on the floor. It was weird. She looked at Granny Walburga, who pursed her lips. “Stand up, Kreacher. She will not be staying for long - half blood scum of the blood traitor.” She shook her head. “See to it that she has a bed made up. Amuse her until she is tired.”

Then Granny Walburga turned on her heel and stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Aurora almost cried again but she didn’t want to anymore, now she’d been told not to. So she looked at the weird thing who had just stood up. It had very large ears. “Who are you?” she asked in her politest voice, like Papa had taught her to.

“Kreacher, young mistress,” the thing said. “At your service and the service of the Black family.”

She folded her arms, frowning. “You’re a Kreacher?”

Kreacher nodded. “What do you do?”

“I serve Mistress,” he croaked.

He didn’t say anything else. Aurora sat down on the floor, confused, then said, making sure Granny Walburga wasn’t around, “Do you know where my papa is?”

Kreacher shook his head with a strange sort of smile. “The traitorous son is gone. Locked up in Azkaban... as he should... his he hurt my mistress... how he betrayed her... now his little child is here... Oh but my mistress doesn’t want her... No, she doesn’t...”

“Az-ka-ban?” Aurora said, sounding out the word as Kreacher had pronounced it. She hadn’t heard of an Azkaban before. “Where?”

Kreacher shook his head. “Kreacher does not know. Kreacher does not go to Azkaban. Kreacher serves his family and is loyal and does not betray them.”

Aurora stared at him. “Will Papa come back?”

Kreacher looked at her with a mean smile. “Kreacher hopes not. Kreacher hopes the traitor Sirius rots in Azkaban.”

Aurora flinched. She didn’t want her papa to - to rot. She wanted to cry again and this time she did. Kreacher, to her surprise, was quick to try and comfort her, although she didn’t really understand what he was saying. She didn’t stop crying for ages, until Kreacher gave her a sort of pencil with a feather on the end and told her she could do some drawing on parchment, and she sniffled a bit, before she got to trying to draw him, a big, shakily lined blob with two smaller eye blobs and big triangular ears.

She didn’t see Granny Walburga again that night. Kreacher told her to sleep in a room on the first floor, that was far too big for her one person, and it was dark and creepy and the floorboards creaked and one of the windows was open, so the curtains fluttered menacingly at her. She curled up under a thick blanket, wishing for one of her stuffed toys, and she kept crying until she got too tired and went to sleep.


	2. Important Decisions

Granny Walburga didn’t like Aurora to call her Granny Walburga. She told her that she was Grandmother and nothing more, and then she told her that Aurora wouldn’t be staying long anyway so she oughtn’t start getting comfortable. She didn’t say anything more about Aurora’s papa, and eventually Aurora learned to stop asking, because Grandmother looked at her with scary, tense eyes. Aurora didn’t know what she’d do if she got too upset, but she was scary.

It felt like a long time passed before Aurora met anybody else from outside the creepy house with Grandmother and Kreacher. They had a quiet Christmas in which Grandmother gave Aurora a terrible book that she couldn’t read and which had no pictures. She also gave her a frilly pink dress, which was nice, but got quite itchy, and Aurora didn’t get why she had to wear it to Christmas dinner when the only people who would see her were Grandmother and Kreacher who saw her in normal robes all the time. “You’ll wear it,” Grandmother snapped when Aurora questioned this, and then she didn’t question it again.

But some time after new year, when the world outside the house started to get a little bit warmer, they had a visitor. A tall, thin, tense looking man in plain grey robes declared himself as being from the Ministry of Magic. He was there to see Aurora, but Aurora didn’t want to see him. “He looks strict,” she whispered to Kreacher, who she’d made help her hide in one of the small cupboards. “Scary.” But so did Grandmother. The only difference was Aurora knew Grandmother now. “Does he know Papa?”

Kreacher gave her a suddenly nasty look and opened the cupboard door, revealing Aurora suddenly to Grandmother and to the Ministry of Magic man. “Kreacher!” She gaped in silent protest, wilted under Grandmother’s disapproving glare, and crossed her arms as she looked at the Ministry of Magic man.

“You must be Aurora,” he said, and he had a very crisp sort of voice. She nodded. “Orcus Selwyn. I’m here to sort out the issue of custody, after your father’s... unfortunate disappearance.”

Aurora stared at him, waiting for Orcus Selwyn to say something more. When he didn’t, she looked at Grandmother in confusion. “Someone else has to take you in,” Grandmother said, wrinkling her nose. “Your father wanted Andromeda, but I won’t hand you off to another blood traitor.”

“Quite right,” said Orcus Selwyn, with an approving nod. “I understand, Ms Black, which is why I offered to be the one to sort the matter. She is of Black blood, after all.”

“Yes,” Grandmother said stiffly, with a hard look at Orcus Selwyn. “Pure blood.”

He looked slightly surprised, but nodded hastily. Grandmother was very scary when she wanted to be, and she wanted to be quite a lot, so she had good practice. “Might we progress somewhere more comfortable?”

Grandmother sniffed. “Indeed. Kreacher, fix tea for our guest.”

“Yes Mistress,” Kreacher said quickly, scraping into a bow. “Of course Mistress.” He scampered off down the hall towards the kitchen and Aurora looked at Orcus Selwyn. He smiled somewhat stiffly at her; she was beginning to think all adults were stiff now. Papa hadn’t been stiff. He’d run around outside with her on his shoulders and she’d screamed and laughed for ages. Grandmother didn’t do that and Kreacher was too small so Aurora didn’t want to ask. The grown ups went into the living room, which was the brightest room in the house - except for Aurora’s bedroom, which she had finally convinced Grandmother to put pink paint on the walls. This room had a very big window that Aurora liked playing pretend fairies next to, usually with a very grudging Kreacher.

“If you wish for Aurora to remain with a blood relative,” said Orcus Selwyn as he sat down, pulling out sheafs of parchment, “we have options. I have been in contact with your late husband’s father Arcturus Black, his sister Lucretia Prewett, your brother Cygnus Black, and your niece, Narcissa Malfoy. The Malfoys have a son of similar age to Aurora-“

“Draco,” Grandmother broke in, “I know, I have met him.”

“Of course,” said Orcus, looking suddenly rather flustered. “Of course, Ms Black. If you have any preference, the child is still magically in your care and you can make the decision yourself, and I will inform whoever you appoint. As I’m sure you know, your son’s will appointed James and Lily Potter as his daughter’s guardians, but er, given the circumstance...” He seemed to falter, seeing the anger in Grandmother’s eyes.

“Potter,” Aurora said quietly, frowning. She knew them. “Where are they?”

Her grandmother and Orcus both turned to stare at her, the former very tight lipped, and the latter looking very awkward indeed. “I trust you have not told her?”

“She is two years old,” Grandmother said. “I do not believe she would understand the situation.”

Orcus’ cheeks went a bit red. “Understandable. Understandable, of course... Mr Black also mentioned Andromeda Tonks in his will-“

“She is not a Black,” Grandmother said tightly. “Even less of a Black than he is, marrying a mudblood as she did.”

“Quite,” Orcus said. “In that case, who will it be?” Aurora was very confused. Her grandmother was looking after her - well, in a manner of speaking. She wasn’t as nice as papa but Aurora did like her. She didn’t want to be with someone else.

“Gra-mother,” she said slowly, enunciating every syllable. Orcus looked at her, as didnher Grandmother, both of them seeming faintly surprised. “I want gra-mother.”

“Ah.” Orcus and Grandmother exchanged awkward glances. “That’s lovely, Miss.”

She frowned as they turned back to one another, talking hushedly so that she couldn’t hear what they were saying. He had said that the other ones had a son her age. She wanted to meet him. Papa’s friends had had a son, Harry, and he was small and very loud, but he was her friend. If she stayed with those other people would their son be her friend too? He might be more fun than Kreacher, but Kreacher also didn’t complain when she told him to make books fly and probably the other boy couldn’t even make books fly. At least, Aurora hopes he didn’t, because she couldn’t make anything fly yet.

“She could meet them,” Orcus was saying to her grandmother. “Before we make any decisions.”

Grandmother glanced at Aurora, who frowned. “Who?”

“We’re considering sending you to stay with my sister in law, Lucretia,” Grandmother said. “She has no children of her own.”

“Lu-cri-“ Aurora couldn’t say that name. She pouted. “Where?”

Grandmother ignored her, speaking to Orcus in a low voice. Aurora picked up the name Arcturus somewhere again. Kreacher appeared with a tray of steaming tea along with a cup of juice for Aurora, and she beamed at him as she toon it, sipping away happily. He stayed beside her when Grandmother did not dismiss him, and Aurora whispered, “What happen?”

“Kreacher cannot say,” he said. “Kreacher cannot tell Mistress Aurora yet.”

She didn’t like that answer, and turned away from Kreacher with a very loud huff. Grandmother and Orcus were talking again, and then Grandmother sighed, eyes turning on Aurora, who blinked. “You said you wished to remain with me,” she said. “Here?”

Aurora nodded quickly. “You and Kreacher.”

Grandmother sighed, pinching her forehead. “You remember what I told you?” Aurora blinked at her in confusion. “You do not cry. You do not whine. You do as you’re told.” Aurora nodded.

“Very well.” She pursed her lips and turned to Orcus Selwyn. “Lucretia is married to a Prewett, a family very openly against the master of my late son. Arcturus is old, Cygnus is, frankly, unstable, and I will not have her with the Malfoys, schemers that they are.” She wrinkled her nose. “She will remain with me until further notice.”

Aurora grinned. Orcus Selwyn looked rather put out, but he nodded anyway and they left quickly and smoothly. Aurora beamed as she turned to Kreacher. “I get to stay!” she cheered, and Kreacher smiled at her. “I get to stay with you and Grandmother!”


	3. Arcturus Black

Aurora was just past her fourth birthday when Grandmother brought Carlotta Yaxley to their home. “She will be your tutor,” she told Aurora crisply. “In reading and writing - English, Latin, French, History, and mathematics, as well as anything else you want to learn and you agree with me.”

Aurora’s eyes lit up. Now she might be able to read the non picture books her grandmother kept giving her. “Really?” She beamed and ran to give her grandmother a hug. She was very stiff and did not give good hugs at all, so Aurora walked back quickly and shook her head. “Sorry, Grandmother.”

Grandmother looked down at her, tight-lipped. “You can start with the alphabet, Yaxley.” Carlotta nodded. “Start now.”

Aurora learned her As and Bs and Cs and then her 1s and 2s and 3s. She found that while reading was fun, she liked doing maths and making the numbers all add up just right, and perfecting the shape of every single one of them. Reading let her imagine, but adding and subtracting was real and rational and it was very satisfying to get it right and to have Carlotta tell her so.

She got to meet the Malfoys’ son, too, when she was five and Grandmother judged her as old and responsible enough to make friends. He wasn’t at all like her faint memory of the dark haired boy she had been friends with; he was blonde and pale and upright and proper and he told her off for ripping the page of one of his books but then he got his house elf to fix it and it was okay. He was a good flier, though, and successfully bullied his parents into letting him and Aurora race each other around their massive garden on brooms.

“You’re good,” he told her when they landed, both flushed. “For a girl.”

“I’m good for anyone,” she told him, crossing her arms and scowling. “I’ll beat you if we race again.”

He laughed at her but the next time they went head to head, she did beat him, and she greatly enjoyed the look on his face when she did so. She also enjoyed Grandmother’s faint smile when she told her of how she’d beaten Draco by a considerable time, and she greatly enjoyed getting ice cream as part of her pudding that night, as a special treat. “You mustn’t be arrogant, though,” her grandmother warn her. “And you mustn’t be inelegant.” Aurora drew herself up taller and pulled her sleeves down so they were smooth. Her grandmother looked at her approvingly. “Good. You are learning. I’ll get that blood traitor out of you yet.”

And when Aurora was very nearly six years old, and learning to be prim and proper and hold herself like a pureblood lady, Grandmother died. It wasn’t sudden, people said, because she’d been ill for years, ever since Regulus died. But it was sudden to Aurora, who didn’t understand how her grandmother had been getting slower and tireder, and who didn’t know how dying worked. She thought of her Mummy, when she sat in a set of black robes and watched a heavy coffin getting lowered into the ground. She knew her Mummy had been in a coffin, but she hadn’t sat and watched. Papa hadn’t let her.

Part of her thought, maybe hoped, that her father would come today of all days, to say goodbye to his mother and to take Aurora home with him to Kreacher. But he didn’t. At the end of the funeral, Orcus Selwyn took her over to Arcturus Black, a tall old man, balding with white hair and a lot of wrinkles. He had the same eyes as she did - deep, dark brown, and wide, though sunken more into his face now. She went home with him, to a big house in the countryside with high ceilings and lots of pretty chandeliers and stained glass windows.

There was lots of room for her to run about, more than there had been when she stayed in Grimmauld Place. And Great-Grandad Arcturus, who she was calling GaGa because Great Grandad Arcturus was a mouthful, was very old and very slow, so didn’t stop her from doing as she pleased so long as she didn’t go beyond the ring of trees around Black Manor. She liked running through the high grass, liked climbing up the tallest trees in the garden. She was allowed to have visitors too, so Draco Malfoy saw her a few times and so did his friend Pansy Parkinson, who Aurora only liked sometimes, when she wasn’t fussing over her hair. She didn’t like to fly very much, but that was alright with Aurora. She refereed all of her and Draco’s races and usually Aurora won, which Draco didn’t like at all.

“You definitely cheat,” he told her, and she shook her head.

“You definitely whine,” she told him pointedly, remembering what her grandmother had always told her. “And you must never whine. It’s unbecoming of you.”

The Summer before she turned seven, GaGa took her to Diagon Alley. “When you get your acceptance to school,” he told her, “you’ll come here to get your books and supplies and your wand, and a broom, if you wish to have one.”

“Where will I go to school?” she asked him, clutching his hand tightly as they made their way from the pub to the small corner of street behind. Draco had said his father wanted to send him to Durmstrang, and Pansy wanted to go to Beauxbatons because she thought their uniforms were lovely, but Aurora knew that all of the Blacks - including her father - had gone to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, which was in Scotland.

“That’s rather up to you,” Arcturus told her. “Hogwarts would be ideal, and if you want a position within society or the Ministry here it is best to make connections. But Durmstrang Institute has a very strong curriculum in the Dark Arts which Albus Dumbledore refuses to even consider, and Igor Karkaroff is a family friend. You would do well there. Beauxbatons... I would not recommend it, but you may do some research into the matter. Your name has been down for Hogwarts since you were born - but I suppose, if you decide in a few years’ time you would rather go to Durmstrang or Beauxbatons, I would support your application.” Aurora grinned. Beauxbatons was in France, Pansy had told her, and she thought France must be a lovely place. Paris was meant to be very romantic and they had such lovely dresses in the past.

“What about other schools?” she asked. “Like Ilvermorny?”

Arcturus looked down at her and shook his head. “Absolutely not America. It does not have the legacy we are looking for. American wizards are all flashy, new money. We are Blacks. We are proud, but we don’t show off, do we?” She shook her head, as he tapped the wall before them. “No, I would not support you going to Ilvermorny. Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, or Durmstrang.”

She supposed it wasn’t a bad choice. And she was very quickly distracted by the wall in front of her moving away, to reveal a winding, bustling, bright street befores her. “It looks lovely,” she said, sighing.

“Yes, yes,” Arcturus said crisply. “Stand up straight now, Aurora. If we come across anybody I know, I want you to introduce yourself politely, and smile, and if they extend their hand then you shake it, yes?” She nodded quickly to show she understood him. “And if anyone makes a comment on your birth, or your father, you are to stay quiet and let me handle it.”

Aurora nodded. She’d long since learned not to bring up her father to anyone, and only think about it when she was on her own. She knew more now than she had when she’d lived with her grandmother. She knew Sirius Black, her father, had been a spy for the Dark Lord, whose name no one spoke but whom everyone seemed to revere, and had handed him the vital information he needed to kill the Potters. That was something she didn’t understand. He had been friends with them. She remembered hearing that they were her godparents. Then he’d killed their oldest friend, too, and a street of Muggles, and his cousin Bellatrix had tortured the Longbottoms to the point of insanity and then Arcturus had stopped speaking about it. She didn’t ask any more about the subject.

Walking down Diagon Alley felt different to being in any other Wizarding place. She’d been in Grimmauld Place and at the Malfoys’ and Parkinsons’ houses, and the Black Manor, but none of them felt like Diagon Alley did. It was bright and the sun shone on her and she could feel the excitement of everyone else rushing about, doing their errands. It was nice. She liked it.

Arcturus took her to Twilfitt and Taffling’s for some new day robes - she got a sky blue set, a deep purple set, and a black set - and then to the apothecary for ingredients for his Potions. “Can I help?” she asked him and he shook his head.

“This is all very complicated. Perhaps when you’re older, and you’ve shown a little bit more of your magic.”

She grinned - that sounded like a yes, eventually - and held her head high as she walked around with Arcturus. There was a little darker corner of the street, leading down into a shadier street and they headed towards there slowly. “Aurora,” Arcturus said, “you’re goinnto be very sensible and proper, and have a look in Flourish and Blotts for some books to read while I go down here.” He pointed to the dark alley and Aurora frowned over his shoulder.

“Why?”

“Don’t ask me why. I won’t be more than half an hour.”

She was about to protest, but Arcturus was already guiding her into the bookshop next door and then he disappeared, leavin gher there. Frustration welled behind her eyes, and she stamped her foot, pouting a little. Then she reminded herself not to whine, and tilted her chin higher and strode over to the Latin section. They had a lot of titles there, though they were all very long and probably for witches much older and better at Latin than she was. Quite affronted, she meandered over to the children’s section, which she did not think she needed to resort to. They had a lot of copies of something called the Tales of Beedle the Bard. They were Draco’s favourite bedtime stories, Pansy said, although he always denied it. She’d never been read bedtime stories by her grandmother and she daren't ask Arcturus to read them to her.

Still. She wanted to know what all the fuss was about. So Aurora crept over and took one of the faded blue copies from the shelf, flipping through it. Babbity Rabbity and the Cackling Stump... The Tale of the Three Brothers... The Warlock’s Hairy Heart... They were all rather strange stories, she thought, but nevertheless read through the first two quickly in the time before Arcturus came back for her, holding a small bag that he wouldn’t let her see inside.

“That’s too young for you,” he said, frowning at the book. Aurora hastily slid it onto the shelf. “Come on, why don’t we find something in French for you to practise with?”

They found two French books to take home with them, and then Arcturus brought Aurora to the Magical Menagerie. “I thought you might like to have a pet of your own,” he said, “seeing as I have an owl, but I’m getting rather old and can’t be much fun.”

Aurora beamed, looking around. There were many owls on the top of the shelves, petting and staring down at her with wide, bright eyes. A cage of rats scuttled about nearby and she gave them a very wide berth, heading instead to the corner where a dozen or so cats were playing together. One in particular stood out, a large but excitable black cat. It bounced over to Aurora and she took fright a little before she regained herself.

“Be careful,” Arcturus told her sternly, and eyed the cat with suspicion. Aurora laughed, and let the cat lick the tips of her fingers.

“She’s a black cat,” she said, giggling. Arcturus didn’t look nearly as amused as she was. “Can I get her?”

Arcturus sighed, but Aurora had already set her heart on this cat. “Very well, seeing as you like her so much. I’ll speak to the clerk.”

Aurora beamed, and managed to coerce the black cat into her arms. She brought her over just as the clerk and Arcturus agreed upon a price and her GaGa paid. “Does she have a name?” Aurora asked, stroking the cat, who nuzzled her elbow.

“We call her Katy,” the clerk said. “But she might respond to something else.”

Aurora frowned at the cat, who glanced up at her with wide, pale yellow eyes. “How about Stella?” The cat mewed affectionately and Aurora beamed, glancing at Arcturus. “She’s called Stella now.”


	4. A Quiet Goodbye

Aurora had always done little bits of magic here and there. She liked to make books go on fire when she was frustrated with the characters, and had more than once jumped out of a tree from a far higher height than was safe and come out perfectly fine. Arcturus said she was going to make a fine witch someday, and make the family proud.

The one thing she loved more than magic was dancing. Arcturus had hired her a private ballet teacher when she was seven, as her typical method of expressing her energy was by making things explode (accidentally) or by running around and getting muddy, neither of which he approved of. Aurora hadn’t expected to love ballet, but she did. It was clean and precise and she knew where everything was meant to go and how it should feel.

She got to jump around, too, but it was refined, and her movements were stronger. More controlled. She knew Arcturus approved, and she liked to think her grandmother would have, too.

By the time she reached the age of nine, he had her helping him to brew remedial potions. “My hands aren’t what they used to be,” he said. He was right; they were withered and wrinkled and she noticed how they shook when he tried to hold anything. So she chopped things for him when they had to be chopped finely, and learned not to be grossed out by eels or fish eyes - that counted as whining, too. And she stirred things when they had to be stirred carefully, and Arcturus let her use his wand a lot since she didn’t have her own.

“I promise I’ll take you to get your own as soon as you get your acceptance letter,” he told her. “Like every other witch and wizard your age.”

But that was a great concern, too. Aurora still didn’t know where she wanted to go to school. Durmstrang was interesting and she though their emphasis not only on the Dark Arts but on Alchemy was fascinating, but Beauxbatons’ curriculum was a lot more flexible and also had a brilliant Alchemy course - Nicholas Flamel himself had studied it there. She spent days pouring over books about the three great wizarding schools, making notes and comparison charts. Her mind was made up eventually after a lengthy conversation with Arcturus, who said that if she was still uncertain then she ought to go with the safest and traditional option of Hogwarts.

“If you wish to study the Dark Arts,” he told her, “I’m sure you will find I am a more than apt teacher, and if not, I can certainly find one. And Alchemy you can study on your own terms, I have no doubt you will be able to.”

So she’d nodded, and when she’d found out that both Draco and Pansy were going to Hogwarts, that effectively sealed the deal for her. “You will be in Slytherin, won’t you?” Pansy asked her.

“Of course I will,” Aurora told her haughtily, praying that she was right. “I’m a Black, aren't I?”

“My mother said your father was a Gryffindor,” Draco said in a whisper, even though they were quite alone in the garden.

“Well, I’m not my father,” she told him with a sharp look which had Draco shutting up immediately. “I will be in Slytherin. Perhaps if you ask such ridiculous questions, you’ll be in Gryffindor, Draco. Or Hufflepuff.”

Draco pulled a horrified face. “Don’t say things like that! Can you imagine the shame?”

“Well, then don’t you entertain the idea of me being in Gryffindor,” she whispered back, quite frustrated. “I won’t be.”

Her eleventh birthday came first of any of them, on the twenty-seventh of September. “I bet you’ll be the oldest in our year,” Pansy told her. “I don’t know anyone else with a September birthday.”

“And I’m stuck with a birthday in June,” Draco said gloomily. “It’s horrid.”

“You’ll be Eleven soon enough,” Aurora told him with a smirk, tossing her hair over her shoulder. She’d wanted a large party, but Arcturus was getting slow now, and not doing very well at all. They’d employed two new house elves, Dippy and Timmy, to help care for him, but she was eleven now and she wasn’t stupid. She knew he wasn’t well, and he was even older than her grandmother had been.

“Can’t you take me to get my wand now?” she asked him after Draco and Pansy had left. He’d retired to his bed, with Dippy and Timmy hovering worriedly around him. “I’m eleven!”

“Not until...” He coughed violently and Dippy’s eyes widened in alarm as she scurried around to try and force some water down his throat.

“I’ll do it,” Aurora said, taking the glass and holding Arcturus up. She could feel him shaking. “It’s okay.”

“It’s tradition,” he said once he’d regained the ability of speech. “You don’t get your wand until you get your Hogwarts acceptance letter.”

“But we know I’m going to be accepted! You said so!”

“Yes,” Arcturus said with a faint smile. He looked very white. “But tradition is tradition, Aurora. Keep your head up. The time will fly by. And I’ll by better by the time you get your letter, I can take you and we can make a proper occasion out of it.”

She nodded, and he squeezed her hand. “Now, go and ask Remy to make dinner for you. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He didn’t get better. Christmas was a solemn, subdued affair. Arcturus couldn’t get out of bed, he was shaking so badly, and they ate dinner in his bedroom, Aurora sitting nervously in an armchair. “Shouldn’t you go to St Mungo’s?” she asked him quietly.

“No,” he croaked stubbornly. “No need for that.”

“But you’re unwell!” Tears welled in her eyes that she tried to blink away. “I’m worried about you!”

“Don’t make a fuss, Aurora,” he told her. “And don’t cry.”

She sniffed, and tried to wipe her eyes on the sleeve of her robe. “I’m not,” she muttered. “It’s the pollen.” He thankfully did not point out that it was December.

“I’ll get better,” he told her. “Once Winter’s over I’ll be much better, you wait and see.” He smiled, patting her hand. “I’ll send you to your Aunt Lucretia tomorrow, she’ll be happy to see you.”

She knew that meant he was too tired to deal with her. Heavily, she finished the rest of dinner and crept back to her own bedroom to read a book she’d snuck from the library about the Dark Arts, and went to sleep still sad.

“I’m worried about him, too,” Lucretia told her in the morning. “He’s only getting older. But you are almost at Hogwarts age, and he doesn’t want you worrying about him. Keep your head up, Aurora. Don’t cry now.”

“Can you speak to St Mungo’s?” she asked quietly. “They might be able to help more than the house elves!”

“My father doesn’t trust St Mungo’s healers,” Aunt Lucretia said. “Or the Ministry.” She patted Aurora on the shoulder. “It’ll be alright. How about you have a go on Ignatius’ old broom?”

He started getting better in late Spring, as he had promised, and as the time for Hogwarts letters came nearer - with Pansy’s birthday and then Theodore Nott’s and then Draco’s - Aurora found herself forgetting all about her worry from last year. She spent more time outside, running around in the garden, flying on Uncle Ignatius’ old broom which he had kindly given to her. Climbing trees felt like nothing now. She was getting too tall for the height to scare her.

“I do hope we get to share a bedroom,” Pansy told her as they sat under the tallest tree. “Daphne Greengrass and Millicent Bulstrode both want to share with me, but I’d much rather be with you.”

“Oh, I hope so too,” Aurora said. “As long as we’re both in Slytherin.”

“You aren’t still worried about that are you?” Pansy asked her shrilly. “Of course we’ll both be in Slytherin.”

She nodded but that worry remained. Her father hadn’t been in Slytherin, and he was the greatest shame of the family. If she didn’t make it in... “And besides,” Pansy said, “I won’t let you not be in Slytherin. The other houses make their students sleep in dormitories! With four other people! Imagine that, you could be stuck in with any old Mudbloods and blood traitors.”

“My father was a blood traitor,” Aurora said uncomfortably. “And my mother...”

“Yeah, but they were Gryffindors! You’re not going to be a Gryffindor!” Pansy sighed huffily and got up. “If you’re going to be moody then I’m going home. Stop worrying so much.”

“I’m not worrying,” Aurora told her, also standing up. “I’m just considering all of the potential outcomes.”

“You talk like you’re old,” Pansy muttered. “Be fun!”

“I am fun!” Aurora protested. “I can climb trees!”

“Proper fun.” Pansy rolled her eyes. “Not tomboy fun. You’re almost at Hogwarts now, Aurora. You have to be a lady, like me.”

“You’re not a lady,” Aurora said. “And you’re younger than me!”

Pansy stuck her tongue out to prove her point and Aurora giggled, linking their arms. “I will be in Slytherin,” she said decisively. “I promise.”

Aurora’s Hogwarts letter was due to arrive on July the 15th, according to her estimations. She was counting down the days, and watching the skies eagerly for any important looking owls that might be coming her way. “And it will definitely come?” she asked Arcturus anxiously, standing by the window as he lay quietly in bed. “You’re sure? My name is definitely on the list?”

“Quite sure,” Arcturus said with a wheezy, strained chuckle. “Come and sit down now, and fix your skirt.” She did so hastily, checking her hair was alright in the window’s reflection before she hurried back to sit by Arcturus’ bed. He was looking pale, even paler than usual. He didn’t say anything for a very long while, and Aurora knew despite what he’d been saying that he was getting ill again. She’d heard the house elves whispering, and Aunt Lucretia had been visiting an awful lot recently.

She wondered where she would end up if he did die soon. Perhaps Aunt Lucretia would take her in, or Draco’s mother, who was after all, still a Black by blood. Or maybe Draco’s grandfather Cygnus - he was, after all, her great-uncle. Her mind wandered to the Potters, what her world would be like if they were alive. She wasn’t sure if she’d like it. She wouldn’t know Draco, and they were all blood traitors, blood traitors who had picked the wrong side and paid the price. That was what Arcturus said any time she asked. She supposed if they were still alive, it would mean her father had never been a spy and given them over to the Dark Lord and gotten caught committing murder. She’d still live with him. Maybe he’d even have gotten his place back on the family tree. She was currently just floating somewhere on the bottom, like a stray leaf.

“You look upset,” Arcturus said, drawing her attention back to him. “Don’t worry. You will get your Hogwarts letter. I promise it.”

“What if I don’t? And what if I don’t get into Slytherin? What if... What if I end up a Gryffindor, too.”

“You’ll still be a Black,” he told her croakily. “You won’t go the same way as your father. I know you won’t. You get to choose.” She nodded with a lump in her throat. “Don’t cry, Aurora.”

“I wasn’t going to!”

He nodded, closing his eyes. “Don’t cry.”

He squeezed her hand and then didn’t let go. He had gone quite still, and Aurora thought... He wasn’t breathing. “Arcturus?” she asked frantically. “Arcturus! Arcturus!” She wrenched her hand from his grip, quite horrified, and put her ear to his chest. He wasn’t breathing. He wasn’t breathing. Her eyes filled with terrified tears. “Arcturus! Dippy! Timmy! Help!”

With two loud cracks the house elves appeared in the room, both quite frantic. Timmy disappeared and came back with a very white-looking Aunt Lucretia, who promptly ushered Aurora from the room. “Arcturus!” she said, heart pounding. “He - he wasn’t breathing!”

“I know,” said Aunt Lucretia, who looked like she was trying very, very hard not to cry. “I know, Aurora. Go to your bedroom. I’ll come and find you later.”

“But Arcturus-“

“There’s nothing you can do for him. I need to be in there.”

“But he-“

“Aurora!” Her voice broke. “Stop arguing, do as I tell you, and go to your room.”

She didn’t see him again that night. Aunt Lucretia came in to tell her that he had died, there was nothin they could do, but he was peaceful, now. She would stay with her until they could go home to Uncle Ignatius’ house and then they’d take care of her.

In the morning, Aurora’s Hogwarts letter came by owl and she tore it up and cried as it went on fire.


	5. A Wand

The day after the first Hogwarts letter, two more arrived. They were persistent. Aurora debated throwing them out of the window. She didn’t want to go, not now. Arcturus had said he would take her to get her first wand when she got her acceptance letter and she’d waited and waited and now it was here. And he couldn’t take her. Her tears seemed to burn her eyes and she thought she’d burst from the effort of trying not to cry.

Aunt Lucretia took her to stay with her and Uncle Ignatius and four owls found them there. “You haven’t relied to your letter?” Ignatius asked her with a frown, and she shook her head.

“It - it came the day after...” She was lost for words but he understood. He even smiled gently.

“It’s alright. I’ll write back and explain the situation.” He looked at her for a moment. “Do you still want to go?”

She thought about it, and then she shrugged, then remembered shrugging was impolite and said, “I don’t know. He - he was supposed to take me to get my wand!”

“I know, Aurora,” said Uncle Ignatius. He tried to hug her but she didn’t want him to. She wanted Arcturus to hug her, to tell her not to cry in the only way that actually stopped her from crying. She wanted him to still be here because it wasn’t fair! None of it was fair.

“I want to go for a walk,” she said sharply, and turned around so he wouldn’t see her crying when she walked away.

The funeral was held a few days later. There had been no more letters from Hogwarts, so Aurora assumed Ignatius had written to them on her behalf, but she didn’t ask. She sat in her room most of the time and only came out for meals, because she didn’t want Lucretia and Ignatius to look at her and think she was going to cry, or whine. Because she was a Black and Blacks had to hold their heads up high but she didn’t want to. She wanted to cry.

She had expected a quiet affair as had been held for her grandmother. But Arcturus’ funeral had attracted quite the crowd, a whole host of witches and wizards she had never met before and who either didn’t care to know her or exchanged significant looks when they heard who she was. She hated it. Everyone was around her and looking at her and she wanted to hex them all so that they’d get out of her way and she could be in peace.

She didn’t know what to do. Sometimes she wanted to cry but Arcturus had told her not to in his last moments, and Blacks didn’t cry. It was a rule, and especially important when she was surrounded by other pure bloods.

Draco was there, though. He and his parents sought her out, and Narcissa Malfoy wrapped an unusually warm arm around her shoulders. “I’m so sorry,” Draco told her quietly, and looked at his parents for confirmation. “I always liked your Arcturus.” She just nodded numbly.

“We’ve spoken to Lucretia and Ignatius,” said Mrs Malfoy. “They were going to see if Ignatius’ niece could take you to Diagon Alley with her children, she has a son your and Draco’s age, but I think it best if you come with us instead.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to.”

“You don’t want to?” Lucius Malfoy’s voice was cold. She’d always disliked that about him, and it felt worse now. “Why ever not?”

She didn’t meet his eyes even though she knew she ought to have. “I just don’t.”

“We can get everything else for you,” Mrs Malfoy started worriedly, “but you will have to get your wand yourself.”

“I don’t want to,” she said again, more forcefully and stood up, legs shaking. “I don’t want to! I don’t want to go to Diagon Alley, I don’t want to get a wand, and I don’t want to go with you!”

She stormed off, cheeks blazing, certain she was going to cry as she ducked behind a bush and curled up. She couldn’t. She didn’t want to go to Hogwarts, not anymore. She didn’t want to be in Slytherin and she didn’t want to not be in Slytherin, just in case. Part of her expected Draco to come and find her, but he didn't. No one came looking for her until the funeral dispersed and Uncle Ignatius and Aunt Lucretia appeared.

“That was quite the speech you made to the Malfoys,” Uncle Ignatius said sternly. “You mustn’t speak to them like that.”

“It’s true,” she blurted out. “I don’t want to.”

“You have to,” said Aunt Lucretia, straightening up. She looked haughty and in control, like any Black woman should. “It is your role, it is tradition, and you will not abandon tradition for the sake of grieving. You are eleven years old. There is plenty of time for grief.”

Aurora shook her head. “But I’m upset now.”

“Then don’t be. You are a Black.”

“I know that!”

“Don’t cry. Don’t whine. Do as I tell you. You’re coming to Diagon Alley with us.”

They took her to Diagon Alley on the first day of August. The sun was shining brightly and Aurora hated it. She glared at the sky until her eyes hurt and she could hardly see, and then Aunt Lucretia dragged her along the street. “Stop that,” she snapped. “You look foolish, Aurora.”

“I’m holding my head high,” she said, though she did tear her gaze away from the sun. It was starting to make her cry.

Aunt Lucretia got their money from the Gringotts vault while Aurora was made to wait outside with Uncle Ignatius. “You’ll get your own vault when you’re seventeen,” he told her. “Your grandmother’s inheritance has reverted to you apparently, and you’ve come into an awful lot of money following Arcturus’ death.”

“I don’t want it,” she muttered, scuffing her feet on the ground. Ignatius frowned and she remembered that was wrong, so she straightened up and stood still and perfect until Aunt Lucretia returned. She looked at her approvingly. “Come on, both of you. I thought Madam Malkin’s first and then Flourish and Blott’s and the apothecary. The rest of what we need we have at home - and then we can get you your wand.”

It was immeasurably difficult, but Aurora managed to smile at Aunt Lucretia and kept the smile up until they reached the robe shop. “How about we pop into a shop just across the road?” Aunt Lucretia said, smiling forcedly as Aurora went to go inside. “Meet us outside when you’re finished, alright? No wandering off.”

They left her there and she wasn’t entirely surprised. She went inside Madam Malkin’s alone and was pleased to find it empty, as she sat patiently on a stool for the shop owner to measure her and fit her Hogwarts robes. “You’re awfully quiet, dear,” Madam Malkin observed. “Where are your parents?”

She didn’t know how to reply. “My aunt and uncle are in another shop.”

Malkin’s eyes softened. “I see.” She hummed a little. “Any idea what house you’d like to be in?”

“Slytherin,” she said immediately, and Madam Malkin raised her eyebrows.

“Really? That’s an interesting one.”

“It is?” Aurora stared at her, unsure why anyone wouldn’t want to be in Slytherin.

“Quite so.” She patted her gently on the arm. “You can get down now. You’re an easy fitting, and an easy customer. I had two boys in earlier, both arguing.” She shook her head. “Come over and I’ll give you the price.”

Aurora looked around distractedly as Madam Malkin input the prices of her sets of robes, and then she handed over the money silently. Aunt Lucretia and Uncle Ignatius were already waiting for her outside, with her ingredients from the apothecary and her books from Flourish and Blotts. “I wanted to choose my own books,” she said shortly, frowning.

“Well, we wanted to save time,” said Aunt Lucretia. “And now we can go and get your wand.”

She’d dreaded hearing that. Aurora walked as slowly as she ever had up the winding street, until they reached a shabby looking shop with peeling paint that bore the name Ollivander. “This is the one,” Uncle Ignatius said with a grin. “Come inside, hopefully there’s not a queue.”

There wasn’t a queue, but there was one dark haired boy already in there, who seemed to be having a bit of trouble. He had with him a man who Aurora thought might have been his father, except the man was like the size of two or three normal men, and the boy was very small and skinny. She frowned, watching as he tried wand after wand.

“We don’t have to get me a wand,” she whispered desperately to Aunt Lucretia, who stared at her.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Aurora. You can’t go to Hogwarts without a wand.”

“I can use Arcturus’ old one-“

“Absolutely not.” She’d thought for a moment Aunt Lucretia might have hit her, and winced pre-emptively, but she merely sighed and said. “His wand was buried with him. Now stop your whining. It doesn’t suit you.” She shut up immediately.

It seemed like ages before the other boy got given his wand and hurried out of the shop, looking flustered. He glanced at Aurora and seemed to smile faintly. She just stared back at him, wondering if she could make a break for it, and darted out of the door. The boy startled in surprise as Aurora ducked behind the giant man he had with him, who turned around and stared.

“Shh,” she pleaded, pressing her finger to her lips and shaking her head.

“What are you doing?” the boy whispered.

“Hiding. My aunt and uncle are trying to get me to find a wand.”

The boy frowned. “Don’t you want a wand?”

She shook her head, and motioned for him to come with her as she attempted to sneak away. She was headed towards Knockturn Alley, where she was very much not allowed to go and where she hoped her aunt and uncle wouldn’t find her. “We’ve lost Hagrid,” the boy whispered. “He’s meant to be showing me around, I don’t know where I’m going.”

“How do you lose someone that tall?” Aurora whispered back, sneaking along by Flourish and Blotts. “And it’s fine, I do know where I’m going. Just stick with me.”

“But why don’t you want a wand?” The boy looked at her worriedly, something like recognition in his very green eyes. “Are your aunt and uncle-“

“Aurora.” Aunt Lucretia’s voice was sharp and furious. Aurora’s cheeks heated furiously as she turned to see her aunt towering over her. “What on Earth do you think you are doing, sneaking away from us?”

“I don’t want-“

“You are getting a wand and that is that, Aurora.” Aunt Lucretia’s eyes landed on the boy and she startled, going somewhat white. “Who is this?”

“I don’t know.” Aurora shrugged. “Look, can’t I just-“

“No, Aurora.” Aunt Lucretia bent down. “I know you are grieving my father, and I know you really wanted him to take you to get your wand. It’s important as a tradition and I understand that. But you still have to get one. Arcturus wouldn’t want you to go without.”

“But he promised.” Aurora’s lip was wobbling, and she looked up and away from Aunt Lucretia and the boy, determined not to cry. “He said he’d take me to get my wand.”

“I know. But he can’t, Aurora, so I am. Come on now, say goodbye to your friend.”

“Bye,” Aurora mumbled.

The boy did the same. “I should find Hagrid.”

She nodded and smiled weakly at the boy. Aunt Lucretia was frowning like she wasn’t sure what to say about it. “Sorry for separating you. But he won’t be too hard to find, I’m sure!”

The boy cracked a smile. “Yeah, probably not. Will I see you at Hogwarts?”

Aurora nodded. She too smiled. “Yeah, probably.”

“Aurora!”

“Coming!” She nodded stiffly at the boy and then hurried away to join her aunt. “I’m really sorry-“

“Wait until we get home for your apologies, Aurora. That was a foolish thing to do.”

“I know, I’m sorry-“

“I said wait.”

They went inside the shop where Ignatius was waiting with a wizened man Aurora knew must be Mr Ollivander. Ignatius didn’t say anything, but while he looked disapproving his eyes were also kind and worried.

“Come on now, Aurora,” said Aunt Lucretia, pulling her forwards to stand before a small, odd-looking man with a shock of straggly silver hair and a curious expression.

“Yes,” he said quietly, his voice soft. “I did wonder if I’d be seeing you, young Miss Black.” She frowned at him, but remained silent. “How awfully like your father you are... I can see it in your eyes.”

“Yes,” Aunt Lucretia said snappily, “we all know about Aurora’s father, but we are here for a wand, and a wand we shall have.”

Ollivander startled to attention with a half smile. Aurora stared him down, hoping he wouldn’t mention her father again. “Well then,” Ollivander said at last. “Hold out your wand arm for me.”

She did so promptly, tilting her chin up so that she was effectively looking down at Ollivander as he measured her arm. “Yes,” he murmured, shuffling away into the shadows of his shop. “One moment.”

He returned with a narrow box which Aurora recognised as being for a wand. “Alder and unicorn hair. Seven inches. Stubborn.” She smiled despite herself as he handed it to her. She could feel the magic twisted inside it, and grinned as she flicked the wand. Nothing happened. With a glare, she tried to flick the wand again, and not so much as red sparks came out.

She glanced up to Ollivander who looked only quietly amused. “Perhaps not,” he said cheerfully, and plucked the wand from her hand. “Ash, then?” He handedto her another slim wand box. “With dragon heart string.”

“Powerful,” she heard Uncle Ignatius murmur. “That was the wand wood Lycoris used.” Aurora attempted to use this wand too, and accidentally shattered the window behind her. Aunt Lucretia looked rather disapproving, though Ollivander insisted that this kind of thing happened all the time.

“That one isn’t for you,” he said, taking the ash wand away.

They went through a number of other wand - black walnut and phoenix tail feather, cherry and dragon heartstring, chestnut and unicorn hair, elm and unicorn hair, maple and dragon heartstring - all of which were of fine and prestigious woods and which, ultimately, did not work. Aurora scowled as she handed back the maple wand, which had broken the doorknob. Aunt Lucretia appeared rather anxious now, whispering to Uncle Ignatius.

Ollivander considered her carefully before he went to get the next wand. His eyes seemed to linger on the door. “I wonder...” He took a wand box from a high shelf and held it out to her. If was of a pretty, richly coloured wood, carved with interesting runes and symbols near the bottom, and twisting at the top. “Hawthorn and dragon heartstring. Eight and a half inches. Slightly springy.” He smiled at her and Aurora cautiously flicked it towards the shelves.

The tip lit up a warm golden colour, illuminating the shop. Aurora gasped, beaming, as she felt warmth exude from the wand and wrap around her for a long moment, like it was hugging her, before it faded. She looked to Aunt Lucretia, who was beaming, and then to Ollivander. “Very nice,” he said. “That is a smart wand, Miss Black, good for Transfiguration, but often conflicted in its nature. And it likes you.”

She smiled as Ollivander took the wand back and Aunt Lucretia paid, beaming at Aurora. “Hawthorn wands perform very well,” she told her as they left. “This is a good sign.”

Aurora flushed, holding the wand box tightly. She wished Arcturus could have seen this, could have smiled and said he was proud that she had matched with such a good quality of wand. Her heart gave a sharp pang and she forced a wobbly smile, following Aunt Lucretia and Uncle Ignatius home and wondering more about what a hawthorn wand meant for her. She would have to read a book on wand lore, she decided. Just so she knew what she was getting into, before she arrived at Hogwarts.

She almost didn’t see the Malfoys coming the other way, and leapt out of the way just in time. Draco turned to stare at her and she almost said hello, were it not for the look on his father’s face. Confused, she fell back, frowning at her friend. He glanced at his father almost nervously and subtly shook his head. But she caught him mouthing the words, Write to me, and smiled confusedly as they disappeared into the crowd and her aunt and uncle tugged her further back down the street.


	6. The Hogwarts Express

Dear Draco Malfoy,

How are you? I do wish you had taken the time to talk to me in Diagon Alley, I have missed your company so. I presume you have bought your wand by now - what make is it? Mine is hawthorn with dragon heartstring, which Aunt Lucretia seemed quite pleased with, so I am very happy.

I haven’t seen you in some time, or Pansy, and I do miss you both. I apologise for my actions at Arcturus’ funeral, I oughtn’t have shouted and it was most rude of me when you and your family were offering me a kindness. Please accept my apology, and I hope that your mother and father will too - the last thing I wanted was to offend any one of you, especially as you have all been so good to me, and you are family.

On another note, I am very excited for Hogwarts now. With luck, we will all be in Slytherin together and have a wonderful time learning. Please write back to me as soon as you can.

Yours sincerely,

Aurora Black

She sent her letter off the morning after she had been to Diagon Alley and received a reply a few days later.

Dearest Aurora,

I accept your apology and have reported it to Mother and Father. While my father is still not pleased with your actions, he understands that we will remain friends, especially once we arrive at Hogwarts. I have also received my wand - it is made of hawthorn and with a unicorn hair core. Mother and Father are both quite happy with it, though I was hoping for an ash wand, but am sure this will suit me well.

We are going on holiday to France soon and so I won’t see you the rest of the holidays; however I am sure we will have plenty of time together at Hogwarts.

Yours,

Draco Lucius Malfoy

Aurora smiled as she set Draco’s letter aside, relieved that all was well. Now she just had to think about Hogwarts. She would be in Slytherin, but from there she wanted to make more friends than only Draco and Pansy. With luck, of course, she and Pansy would be in the same dormitory, but there were bound to be other girls in their year - Daphne Greengrass, Millicent Bulstrode, Alice Runcorn, Frida Selwyn and Lucille Travers were all the same age as them - whom she could befriend. In addition, there was Harry Potter.

He ought to be the same age as her, and therefore in the same year. She didn’t know which Wizarding family he had been staying with, but certainly not one the Blacks associated with. Still, that could be overcome. She didn’t want to be his friend necessarily, but she knew Draco thought it would be prudent of them to try and get along. Whatever his family’s previous allegiances and political views, Harry Potter was famous. He was the boy who lived. He would be a useful ally to have, and if he ended up as a Slytherin, all the better.

“You don’t need to make friends with blood traitors like that,” Aunt Lucretia told her, shaking her head. “That’s where your father went wrong. Befriending Potters.”

“Draco thought it would be a good idea,” she admitted.

“Draco is a silly boy,” Lucretia said, and then sighed, crouching so that she was at eye level with Aurora. “You will get along quite well without Harry Potter. We don’t want to associate with those who once stood against the Dark Lord. Against our own family. Understand?” She nodded quickly. “And besides,” Aunt Lucretia said, and her voice was a little quieter, a little softer, “I’m not sure Harry Potter would like you to talk to him.”

She knew what that meant. It was her father’s fault his parents were dead, after all. Making friends with Harry Potter was a stupid idea. She wrote to Draco and told him she wasn’t going to entertain it any longer.

Arcturus had left most everything to either Lucretia or Aurora. While the house at Grimmauld Place had originally been in his charge, it now went to Aurora, and she and Lucretia set about sorting through everything in there. “Anything that gives off a magical energy,” Lucretia instructed, “you do not touch it. You tell me immediately and do what I say when I deal with it, yes?”

Aurora nodded her assent and Aunt Lucretia set her free on the third floor. She searched the rooms one by one. Aunt Lucretia had just said to look for anything that was Arcturus’, and nothing her did; they looked like boys’ rooms. One decked out in the Slytherin colours green and silver, but the other and astounding scarlet and gold for Gryffindor. She blinked in surprise as she hovered in the doorway. This was her father’s room, she realised, when he had lived here. It felt so strange to stand there, but a part of her was curious too, as to why this had been left like this for so long. She combed through the room, listening out for any sign of Aunt Lucretia coming upstairs - she didn’t think she’d like to find her here - and there wasn’t much of value until she stumbled across a stack of papers. Muggle photographs.

They were old, and it took Aurora a while to pick out her father - there. With Arcturus’ eyes and her hair and her grandmother’s cheekbones. He was laughing, head thrown back happily, and though the photo was stagnant it seemed more alive than any other. It was strange to see him like that, as opposed to the murderer she’d always been told he was.

There were others in the photos too, as she poured through them. One she thought might have been her mother - they had the same eyes, and at the age she seemed to be, she looked similar - but she didn’t know. That hurt in an unexpected way, the fact that she didn’t even know what her mother looked like.

One was of a girl and a boy, just growing into adulthood. One with brilliant red hair and green eyes that were bright despite the fadedness of the photo, and a boy with messy hair who was grinning. The girl looked fondly annoyed with him, in the process of rolling her eyes when the photo was taken. She turned the photo over, looking at the elegant handwriting. James and (a very annoyed) Evans. James. James Potter? And was that Evans, was that Lily Potter? Her head spun. “Aurora!” Aunt Lucretia’s voice called. “Is everything alright up there?”

“Fine!” Aurora called nervously, stuffing the photos in her deep robes pocket. “Nothing important here!”

She hurried out of that room and into the Slytherin room, pretending to be interested in a ring with a snake on it, as Aunt Lucretia. “Come on,” she said, “I doubt there is much on this floor anyway. The drawing room needs more cleaning than I am up to, we’ll do that at another time. There is an awful lot of Dark magic around here.” She looked about and shivered. “It’s no place for you, Aurora.”

Aurora followed her back out of the house into the sunny London street. She took her aunt’s arm and kept a firm hand on the photos in her pocket as they Apparated away. Those pictures were important. One might even have been of her mother, and one was definitely of her father. She didn’t know how she felt about that yet.

On September the First, eleven year olds across Magical Britain awoke excited for their first year at Hogwarts, and Aurora was no exception. Though she was, as she kept reminding her aunt and uncle, almost twelve, and becoming quite grown up, she did find herself smiling a bit in the mirror when she got dressed. All of her books, robes, and other school equipment were packed neatly and organisedly in her trunk, and her cat Stella sat by her feet. “Well,” she said, with a lump in her throat. She wished Arcturus had been there to see her off, to wish her well and tell her she’d be a shoe in for Slytherin. She wondered what he would think of Harry Potter. He’d probably say the same as Aunt Lucretia. “Time for school.”

They got to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, and Aurora clutched a little list of her Hogwarts Plan.

Work hard and study, and ensure all your teachers like you so you have a better chance of getting help in classes and better grades.

Befriend other purebloods and Slytherins and ensure everybody knows you are a true Black, not a blood traitor or a Dark Lord’s servant.

Don’t cry and don’t whine. Do as you are told, do not bring up your father to anyone, stop anyone who tries to bring it up. Make Arcturus proud.

It wasn’t much and it wasn’t a solid plan, but Aurora was determined to stick to it. “We’ll see you for Christmas,” Aunt Lucretia said, hugging her once Aurora had gotten all of her things into a compartment Draco and Pansy had shown her to. “Write to us after your Sorting and after your first week of classes, I want to make sure your professors all treat you correctly.”

She nodded. “I will, Aunt Lucretia.” She squeezed her tightly in another hug. For a moment she considered not letting go, holding on forever. Everyone was so much bigger and louder than her, and no one knew who she was yet but they would soon. And she was worried they wouldn’t know her for her, or the reasons she wanted them to know her.

“And remember. You are a Black. You are part of one of the noblest and most ancient families in our world. People may think what they want if you for it, but they will never forget that.” She smiled at her. “Make sure they associate your name with you.”

Aurora nodded nervously, before she let go of her aunt and hurried back onto the train. She couldn’t help herself from peeking into various compartments as she passed. Two red haired twins were holding another boy’s tarantula; further down, a nervous looking boy was holding a toad very tightly, and the dark-haired boy from Diagon Alley sat alone looking out the window. She frowned at him. It didn’t look like he was talking to anyone seeing him off, but he was watching the platform like he wished he was.

“Hello,” she said quietly, and he turned around, eyes wide. He had awfully messy hair, and his clothes looked far too big for him. They were Muggle clothes too, or at least they were very unfashionably robes. She wrinkled her nose. “Are you talking to someone?”

“No,” the boy said abruptly, sitting down.

“I didn’t think so.” She considered going to sit down with him, but decided against it. Draco and Pansy would be looking for her. “Didn’t your parents manage to get through the platform? They have to hold onto a wizard to do it, if they’re Muggles. It’s a precaution.”

The boy blinked. “Both my parents are dead.”

He said it so plainly. She stared at him. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly and sincerely. “So is my mother, if that helps. My f-“ She stopped herself. This boy’s parents were dead, and he had messy black hair and green eyes and was clearly her age, and she didn’t understand why he was dressed like a Muggle. But the idea that he might be Harry Potter was enough to stop her speaking. “My friends are waiting,” she said quickly, tilting her chin up. The boy who might have been Harry Potter blinked at her in confusion.

“Oh. Right.” He sounded almost sad, and Aurora felt a little bad, because she wouldn’t like not to know anyone. But there was no way she, Aurora Black, could go and introduce Harry Potter to the few friends she had. First of all, they’d all be all over him and she did not want that. Second of all, he’d be bound to hear who she was. What her father did. She didn’t want that.

“You don’t know any other wizards, do you?”

He shook his head. “I didn’t even know I was a wizard until my birthday. And that was only a month ago.”

It was Harry Potter. Her stomach seemed to plummet. “Oh,” she said flatly. “Well, you’re here now, aren’t you? That’s what matters. I’m sure you’ll meet someone soon. See you at Hogwarts.”

She hurried back down the length of the train to the compartment where she’d left her trunk. Draco and Pansy were already sitting there, along with two large, strongly-built boys, the pretty brunette Daphne Greengrass, a plump, mousy-haired girl, a short, stocky-looking girl with a curtain of thick red hair, and two boys, one short, pale and pensive looking, and one with angular cheekbones and dark skin, whose eyes lit up with interest when Aurora entered.

“Aurora,” Draco said cheerfully, and nudged Greengrass out of the way so he could stand and hug her. “We were beginning to think you had gotten yourself lost.”

“I had to say goodbye to Aunt Lucretia,” she told him and smiled nervously at the others, though giving her her best impression of confidence. It’s all in the appearance, Arcturus had told her. Act regal, and you are regal. Act a fool, and you will always be a fool. “She is worried about me.”

“Of course she is,” Draco said, and Pansy smiled, giving Aurora a quick hug. “Well, I ought to give you introductions. You know Daphne Greengrass, don’t you?” Aurora nodded to Daphne, who raised a cool hand in greeting. She had an indifferent sort of elegance about her. “This is Millicent Bulstrode.” The plump brunette girl waved, smiling warily at Aurora. “Frida Selwyn.” The red head gave Aurora a cool, appraising look and nodded her head stiffly. “Theodore Nott.” Draco pointed to the pensive boy in the corner, who smiled awkwardly and promptly looked back at the book he was holding. “Blaise Zabini.” The tall, dark skin boy considered Aurora for a moment like he was studying a particularly interesting portrait. He nodded, and Draco nodded. “And this is Vincent Crabbe, and Gregory Goyle.” The two other boys nodded their heads, and Draco turned back to Aurora with a grin. “Lucille and Alice said they’ll be along shortly - Alice wanted to say hello to Susan Bones.”

“Okay,” Aurora said, and then though that was too indecisive. “Well, I’m Aurora Black, And it is lovey to meet you all at last. This is my cat, Stella.” She gestured to Stella, who was standing to attention at her feet, and Frida Selwyn cooed suddenly.

“I love cats,” she explained. “But my mother’s allergic to them, which is awfully inconvenient, as we’ve never been able to have one. My sister and I have owls instead, and they’re very handsome, but they’re not the same as cats.”

Aurora smiled. “Stella’s lovely. You can say hello to her if you want.”

Frida did, and Aurora grinned at Draco, who nodded to her approvingly. They sank back down into seats, Aurora pressed between Draco and Pansy with Stella on her lap, and the others all talked quickly and excitedly. “My sister says the Hogwarts feasts are the best feasts you’ll ever have,” Millicent Bulstrode told them all loudly. “And we have three excellent house elves, so you all know the food must be exceptional for Drina to say so.”

Pansy laughed. “Well, I’m not sure the food will be quite my highlight,” she said, and Millicent flushed. “But I personally am very excited to begin Potions work. Father never let me help him.” She looked at Aurora. “I’m ever so jealous you got to brew.”

Aurora flushed. The only reason she got to brew was because Arcturus was too ill and old too. She’d enjoyed it at the time but thinking about it now felt odd. “I’m sure I’m not that much ahead of everybody else,” she said encouragingly, playing at modesty. “And I’ve hardly any experience with other aspects of magic.”

“Well, I’m going to try out for the Quidditch Team,” Draco said, and Frida laughed.

“First years aren’t allowed,” she reminded him. “Don’t be silly. You don’t even get to bring your own broom.”

“I don’t need my own broom to be good,” Draco told her. “You’ll see. I could be the youngest seeker in a century.”

“Or Aurora could,” Pansy said, and grinned at Aurora. “She’s a brilliant flyer. Better than you, Draco.”

Draco went pink. “Don’t be silly,” Aurora said, laughing. “We’re well matched.”

Pansy smirked, but they didn’t get any further into their conversation. Two girls had just entered, one tall and dark skinned, with curly black hair, and the other equally tall but her friend’s opposite in every other respect, pale and blue eyed and with straight, honey blonde hair. Aurora was immediately envious of that hair.

“Lucille,” Pansy said hailingly. “Alice. Come and meet Aurora.”

Lucille looked at Aurora interestedly. “I have someone better. Word is, Harry Potter’s on the train.”

Aurora froze. Everyone started talking immediately, all gibbering excitedly. “What’s this?” asked an older girl, coming over. “You’re awfully loud for some first years.”

“Drina,” Millicent said excitedly. “Harry Potter’s on the train!”

Drina raised her eyebrows. “Is he now?” Millicent nodded.

“Lucille heard.”

“Susan Bones told me. She’d heard it from Katie Bell, some Gryffindor, who heard it from Fred and George Weasley.”

“Your source is a Weasley?” Drina scoffed. “It might as well be a broken-winged owl.”

She returned to her seat, but Aurora heard her telling some others the story too. “Come on,” Draco said to her, getting to his feet.

She looked at him. “Where?”

“To fins Harry Potter, of course.” He glanced over her head. “Crabbe, Goyle, with me. Pansy?”

Pansy shook her head. “I’m not going to look for Harry Potter. He can find me.” She folded her arms and Draco looked at Aurora desperately.

“I’m not coming with you! I told you what my aunt said.”

“Please, Aurora,” Draco said, eyes wide and pleading. “I need you to come with me.”

“No you don’t.”

“I do! Please?”

She stared at him and sighed very loudly. “No. But I will tell you he’s that way.”

“You’ve already met him!” Draco was staring at her like she’d betrayed him.

“Briefly. He was-“ She stopped herself from saying he was dressed like a Muggle. Perhaps she had better go. She didn’t mind people who dressed like Muggles, they were just a bit strange, but she didn’t think Draco might be the same.

She didn’t get to correct herself though. Draco pulled her to her feet and was dragging her down the train with her. Crabbe and Goyle lurked behind. “I don’t think this is a good idea,” she told Draco in a whisper. “It’s Harry Potter!”

“Exactly!”

“I bet your father wouldn’t like it if you were friends with him.”

“And what would your father think?” Draco snapped, and Aurora shut up promptly. She had no choice but to follow Draco now.

They came to the compartment with the boy who was probably Harry Potter in it. He wasn’t alone anymore; a red haired boy sat with him, with a rather sad looking rat dozing in his lap.

Draco knocked sharply on the door and opened it. “They’re saying all down the train that Harry Potter’s here,” he said, looking at Harry Potter with great interest. “So it’s you, is it?”

Harry Potter looked to Aurora, and then to Draco. He pulled a face - it wasn’t that noticeable, but Aurora could tell already that he didn’t like Draco, which was peculiar. “Er, yes,” Harry said awkwardly.

Draco glanced behind him. “This is Crabbe and Goyle. And this is-“

“Draco,” she whispered warningly.

“My friend Aurora. And I’m Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.”

She sighed in relief that he hadn’t said her surname. She knew it was only a matter of time before everyone found out anyway, but she wanted to wait. The ginger boy coughed. The sad rat on the ginger boy’s lap opened one eye and then squeaked, bolting off of the ginger boy’s lap and straight towards Aurora. She jumped in fright, instinctively kicking the thing away, and the ginger boy scrambled about trying to catch him. “Scabbers!” he cried. “Scabbers!”

“Get that disgusting thing away from me,” Aurora said, staring down her nose at it. “It could have any sort of disease!”

“He’s not diseased,” the ginger boy said defensively. “He’s my rat. You just kicked him.”

“Well, don't let him near me, then,” Aurora said shortly, shuddering. “And who are you, anyway?”

“No need to ask, Aurora,” Draco said with a laugh. “My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair and more children than they can afford.” She’d heard of the Weasleys, of course. Blood traitors. She was still pretty sure she was related to them somehow. Uncle Ignatius definitely was, as a Prewett. Draco looked sharply at Harry Potter, who was staring at them. “You’ll soon find, Potter, that some Wizarding families are superior to others. You don’t want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there.”

Weasley was still glaring at Aurora, who shifted uncomfortably. This wasn’t how she wanted this to go. She tilted her chin up further and looked down her nose at him as Draco held out his hand for Potter to shake. “I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks,” said Harry Potter coolly, and Aurora raised her eyebrows.

“I told you this was a waste of your time,” she told Draco, making to turn away. But he wasn’t done.

“I’d be careful if I were you, Potter,” he said slowly. “Unless you’re a bit politer, you’ll go the same way as your parents. They didn’t know what was good for them either.”

“Draco!” Aurora said sharply, shocked he would bring that up. She saw a look of recognition dawn on Weasley’s face as he gaped between her and Draco and Potter. “Stop it. You shouldn’t say such things.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “If Potter hangs around with riff raff like the Weasleys and that oaf Hagrid... Who knows what might happen.”

“Draco,” Aurora whispered, and turned aghast back to Weasley and Harry. “I’m awfully-“

But Weasley had stood up and was glaring at them both. He had gone very red. “Say that again.”

“Oh, you’re going to fight us now, are you?”

“Draco,” Aurora hissed. Louder, with every ounce of authority she could manage, she said, “No one’s going to fight anyone.” She looked at Potter and Weasley with a look that said, and you had better not try it. “Are you?”

“We will if you don’t get out,” Potter said, and she realised he meant her, too.

“Come on, Draco,” she said. “Let’s go.”

“I don’t feel like going,” he said, and she resisted the urge to strangle him. The trouble making fool. He was going to make a scene just for the fun of it. “We’ve eaten all our food, and your compartment’s full of it.”

Then, just as Goyle reached for a chocolate frog, Scabbers the rat struck again. He lunged for Goyle, biting his fingers, and Goyle shrieked. He waved his hand wildly in the air, yowling as he tried to throw the rat off.

Aurora slapped it off of him, shoving him down the corridor. The boys ran off as the rat disappeared, but Aurora lingered in the doorway for a second, watching Harry and the Weasley boy look for Scabbers. Harry looked up. “What are you still doing here?”

She sneered. “Nothing. The rat’s that side of the compartment, you’re looking in the wrong place.”

Then with a last look at Harry Potter, she turned on her heel and stalked back to the compartment where Draco was already telling everyone the story of Weasley boy’s feral rat.


	7. Perhaps in Slytherin?

The sky was dark by the time they came to a stop at Hogsmeade train station. Aurora looked up at the stars and grinned, holding Stella tightly. Maybe she’d get to see a real aurora borealis out here some day. They were very far north and there were no Muggles for miles around to get in the way of the light.

“Hurry up, Aurora,” Pansy said impatiently. “We need to get on a boat together. You, Draco, and I.”

Aurora smiled at her and followed her friends to where the very tall man who had accompanied Harry Potter in Diagon Alley was standing, waving a lantern and calling for the first years. She watched as he greeted Harry and Weasley, and then scowled. “It’s four to a boat,” Draco told her, and they hurried down the banking to the great, dark lake where just over a dozen boats sat docked, rocking gently against the waves.

“Four to a boat!” the giant man was shouting - Aurora hoped dearly that he wasn’t a real giant - and Aurora hopped in quickly with Pansy and Draco. A moment later, Daphne came over to join them, looking extremely put out.

“The other girls have already filled up a boat,” she said, shaking her head. “So I suppose I’ll have to slum it with you three.”

“You’re too good for Bulstrode,” Pansy told Daphne decisively, and smirked. “We’d be more than happy to welcome you into our ranks.”

Aurora grinned. “Does anyone know how we get Sorted?” Pansy asked. “No one would tell me. Apparently it’s a secret, which I think is ludicrous. We ought to be prepared.”

“Mother wouldn’t tell me anything either,” Daphne said, wrinkling her nose. “But from what I’ve deduced, we’re going to have to solve a puzzle. Personally, I think it should be a good way to sort the good from the bad.”

Draco nodded in agreement. “I quite agree. I’m rather good at puzzles.”

Aurora rolled her eyes. “You three are getting ahead of yourselves. All we have to do is try on the Sorting Hat.”

Draco stared at her. “How did you know that?”

“How did you not?” She shook her head. “It’s in Hogwarts: A History. It used to belong to Godric Gryffindor.” Pansy pulled a face. “Yes, I know. But all you have to do is put it on and it’ll sort us.”

“That’s awfully boring,” Pansy said frowning. “We don’t even have to prove ourselves?”

“No,” Aurora said. “Only put on a hat. It is rather ridiculous, and an outdated practice.”

“I don’t want to wear anything of Gryffindor’s,” Draco announced loudly, as their boat started moving gently across the water. “Can you imagine?”

“It must have all sorts in it,” Daphne said with a shudder. “How many students must have tried it on?” She sniffed. “I don’t trust Dumbledore to have given it a proper wash, do you?”

“Absolutely not,” Pansy said. “I’m sure it’s positively disgusting.”

“I’m not touching it,” Aurora decided, although she knew she would probably have to. “I won’t do it. I’ll force it to put me in Slytherin if it puts up a fuss, but I’m not touching the thing.”

Pansy giggled. “I second that. I’m not putting on the hat either.”

They hadn’t gotten further in their conversation before the boats turned a corner and the lake seemed to shimmer with golden and silver lights. Aurora looked up, gaping, as Hogwarts Castle rose above her. Lights twinkled in every one of its many windows, and tower spires rose high enough that they cut into the moon. “It’s beautiful,” she said quietly, and Pansy nodded.

“Mother said it was.”

“It’s just a castle,” Draco said, but even he was staring at Hogwarts, clearly impressed.

Aurora beamed as they clambered out of the boat, excited to go in and get sorted and meet her housemates. She didn’t spare a thought for Harry Potter as she went with Draco, Pansy and Daphne up the school steps. Even as a stern witch, Professor McGonagall, introduced herself to them, she barely noticed it, instead staring around at the portraits who were chattering excitedly, and at the ghosts who flew in and out of the door. It felt magical like home did, but ten times more so. It felt warmer, and the lights were gentler. Being with her friends made her smile and she momentarily forgot her fears as they strode into the Great Hall as a group.

They came to a stop before a stool with a very withered, very unwashed looking, wide-brimmed hat. Daphne and Aurora both wrinkled their noses at it and caught each other’s eyes, giggling. “The ceiling’s enchanted oh know,” a bushy haired girl was saying. “I read it in Hogwarts: A History.” Aurora had read the same, of course. She caught the girl’s eye and smiled, and the girl grinned back but didn’t say anything. The hat had started singing. Aurora has been expecting the hat to sing a song, but she seemed to be the only one. It was a nice song, and she grinned at the line about Slytherin.

Perhaps in Slytherin, you’ll meet your real friends. These cunning folks use any means to achieve their ends.

She rather liked the idea of being cunning. And as for real friends... She grinned at Draco and Pansy, then at Daphne. Yes, she would certainly make some real friends.

“When I call your name,” Professor McGonagall told them, in front of all of the students, “you will come up here and place the Sorting Hat on your head.”

She gestured to the stool, which Aurora thought must have been sat on by thousands of other witches and wizards before her. She wrinkled her nose again. She hoped that had been cleaned properly. Did Hogwarts have house elves? It must, she thought, to feed so many students.

The first girl, Hannah Abbot - short and blonde - sat down on the stool, looking incredibly nervous. All eyes were on her as the hat deliberated a moment, before shouting, “HUFFLEPUFF!”

There was a roar of applause from the table two away, whose students wore yellow Hufflepuff emblems on their robes. Aurora took a second to identify the Slytherins at the far end of the hall, as Caroline Allan and Jamie Anderson both became Ravenclaws. Then McGonagall called out, “Aurora Black!”

She could hear people whispering as she went up to take the stool, head held high.

“That Black?”

“Surely not!”

“She can’t be in our house!”

Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster, was eyeing her curiously. This made Aurora only more determined to ignore them all, as she sat down elegantly on the stool, surveyed the hall, and gingerly held the hat over her head. “Hesitant to put me on, are we?” it said, and she startled. It landed on her head, chuckling, and she scowled. “Another Black. I haven’t had one of you in years. Young Mister Regulus. Lots of Slytherins there... But your father... A Gryffindor. Well, don’t I know a few things about Sirius Black.” She scowled.

“Don’t talk about him,” she said in a low voice, barely moving her lips so that no one could tell she was talking to the hat. She kept her eyes on the door at the end of the Great Hall, not falling on anyone else.

“Not a fan, eh? I wonder how much you’ve been told.”

“Shut up,” she told the hat, and it just laughed.

“Well, let’s see then. Witty, intelligent, you have a keen mind, and a curious one. Ravenclaw would be a good fit. There’s a loyalty there, hard-working... And some courage I see.”

That sounded awfully Gryffindor. “I want to be in Slytherin,” she told the hat.

She could almost feel the damned thing smirking. “Is that so? Well, it would fit your name, certainly. Cunning, not quite, but you could get there. Ambitious, and resourceful, and certainly prideful... You’re an interesting one.”

Aurora crossed her arms and scowled. “Put me in Slytherin, please.”

The hat laughed. “And stubborn. Determined. Yes, you know what you want. Very well, then. SLYTHERIN!”

She grinned as she yanked the hat off her head. There was a spattering of nervous applause from the Slytherin end of the hall, but Draco and Pansy both cheered loudly and soon all of the Slytherin table was cheering for her. Aurora set the hat down daintily, making a note to wash her hands when she got to the Slytherin table, and flounced away, beaming.

She watched steadily for the trickle of Slytherins coming to join her. Millicent made it, grinning cheerfully as she sat down opposite Aurora, followed by Crabbe, then a tall girl with dark brown skin and dark black hair held up in two ponytails, who was called Tracey Davis and after her, Clarissa Drought, rather plump and sullen looking, with tanned skin and short, reddish brown hair - they both regarded Aurora warily when she sat down next to her. Goyle joined them next, sitting on a disgruntled Millicent’s other side. Daphne came just after him, and beamed as she squeezed in between Aurora and Tracey. “Good show, Black,” she told her, running her hands through her hair. “Pansy’s nervous, but I don’t know what she thinks she has to worry about.”

Apollo Jones was the next Slytherin - tanned and handsome, with blonde hair - then Leah MacMillan, similarly tanned and rather stocky, with thick eyebrows and with long black hair. She seemed very cheerful about the whole thing, despite the fact that a boy Aurora had been sure was her brother had just been put into Hufflepuff without her. She didn’t get the chance to ask her about the matter, though: both Leah and Apollo sat at the far end of the table, away from Aurora.

Draco made it into Slytherin, of course, as did Theodore Nott. Next was a short, rather pink-faced boy called Robin Oliphant, with curly brown hair. He sat determinedly next to Tracey Davis and started whispering quickly to her, and Aurora couldn’t hear. She focused her attention on Pansy, who had taken the Sorting Hat, too, just after Theodore, who had of course been put into Slytherin. She did look nervous, Daphne was right, but she had nothing to worry about. The hat yelled out, “SLYTHERIN!”

They all clapped for Pansy, and only a few moments later, Sally-Anne Perks was sorted into Slytherin too. She was skinny, with a pale and freckled face and ginger hair held back in two plaits. Aurora couldn’t stop herself from being curious as Harry Potter’s name was called and excited murmurs rippled through the hall. People were craning their necks to get a look at him, but Draco and Pansy had ended up sitting either side of Aurora now, and they did not. “He does look a bit weedy, doesn’t he?” Pansy said. “We are better off without him.”

Some of their housemates seemed to think there was a chance that Potter could be sorted into Slytherin. Aurora scoffed. As if the great Harry Potter would submit himself to anyone except Gryffindor. Maybe Hufflepuff. And sure enough, the hat took a few minutes, but it inevitably yelled, “GRYFFINDOR!”

The Gryffindor table went wild with excitement and Aurora rolled her eyes. She hated the lot of them already. They were terribly loud. They didn’t seem to stop cheering for ever, and then the Sorting dragged on.

At the mention of Alice Runcorn’s name, Aurora did glance up, only to see that she had been sorted into Hufflepuff. There was a murmur of curiosity from the others, and Pansy whispered, “That’s a shock. What’s it put her there for? Stupid hat.”

She’d thought that was enough of an upset. Then Frida Selwyn got put in Gryffindor and the ensuing dramatics were enough to make Aurora very, very grateful that she had been put in Slytherin. There were another two Slytherins added to their ranks - Lewis Stebbins with light brown skin and messy black hair, and Gwendolyn Tearston, who was tall, tanned and blonde, and seemed as warm as a Hufflepuff when she sat down next to Leah MacMillan.

Lucille Travers and Blaise Zabini both made Slytherin too, and then the Sorting was over. The Weasley boy had, to no one’s surprise, been put into Gryffindor along with Harry Potter.

“Good group we have,” Draco said, glancing around. “Shame about Frida and Alice. Imagine being sorted into Hufflepuff.” He shuddered. “I think I’d leave.”

“I feel worse for Frida,” Pansy said. “What must her family say when she tells them?” She glanced at Aurora. “Do you think she will tell them?”

“I don’t see how she couldn’t,” Aurora said. “It would be difficult to avoid, wouldn’t it?”

Dumbledore stood up as McGonagall cleared the hat and stool away. He smiled out at the Great Hall. “Welcome,” he said, voice rather soothing. “Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before our feast begins, I have a few words I would like to say: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you.”

Aurora stared at him. “What.”

“Oh, Mother says Dumbledore’s quite odd,” Pansy told her.

“Father says he’s a fool,” Draco added. “He’s losing his touch somewhat, and his mind.”

Then the tables filled with hot plates of food and Aurora was quite distracted from Professor Dumbledore’s oddness. At the end of the feast he gave out a lot of weird rules about not being allowed into the Forbidden Forest and how the third floor Charms corridor on the right hand side was out of bounds to anyone who didn’t wish to die a most painful death. Aurora was determined never to go to the third floor if she could help it.

“Alright,” shouted a boy from the other end of the table as the feast broke. “First year Slytherins with me, to the dungeons! The rest of you hang back a bit - I’m sure you can find something to amuse yourselves with.”

Draco, Crabbe and Goyle shoved their way to the front of the group of first years, while Aurora hung back with Pansy and Daphne. “Do they have to quite so brutish?” Daphne said, glaring at Crabbe’s back.

“So long as they aren’t brutish to us,” Pansy said clippedly, as they all fell into step and followed the boy downstairs.

“I’m your prefect,” he told them. “While you’re here, you can come to me with any issues. But I want it understood now, they must be serious issues. Not because you don’t want to go to detention, or someone said something mean to you in the corridors. I don’t tolerate whiners, and neither does Professor Snape.” Aurora straightened up, even more determined not to whine. Perhaps this prefect was also a Black, somewhere along the line. “I’m Lucas Flint, and you can also talk to Kayda Ordens, if you need to. No one is to bother Professor Snape unless it is urgent or very severe.”

They reached a stretch of damp stone wall. Aurora thought it was quite unimpressive, and wondered for a moment why they were there before Lucas Flint said the word, “Merlin,” and it slid away, to reveal a low ceiling room with a number of deeply painted bookshelves, several green velvet armchairs and a crackling fireplace. By the other wall was a window, through which she was sure she could see the lake. A fish swam past merrily.

“Oh,” Aurora said softly, “it’s quite lovely.”

“Isn’t it just?” Pansy beamed. She was looking around excitedly. “Mother said we’ll have to wait to find out which room were in. Oh, I do hope we’re together.”

“Me too,” Aurora said with a smile, though she supposed sharing with Daphne wouldn’t be terrible either.

They lingered for a moment, taking in the beautiful space, before Lucas Flint yelled, “Alright!” They quietened down instantly. “Girls’ rooms are on the left, boys’ on the right.” He gestured to two doors. “As we have use of all the dungeons, including lower floors, our house has space for more rooms than others. Each student will have one roommate. This cannot be changed over the next seven years except in extreme circumstances. Please do try to get along.” He grimaced. “I don’t want another case of magically sprouting tails.”

Aurora laughed along with the rest as she said her goodnight to Draco and followed Pansy and Daphne through the door to the girls’ rooms. The corridor was narrow, but judging by the space between the rest of the doors, the rooms themselves would be quite large. There were a few other corridors stretching off of the main one, creating something of a maze, especially by the green lighting, but Aurora thought it was rather exciting.

“There’s my name!” Pansy said, hurrying over to a door with a silver plate on it that read:

Pansy Parkinson

Millicent Bulstrode

“I’m in with Millie?” She pulled a face. “She snores something awful!”

Daphne giggled and shoved Pansy lightly towards the door. “Have a nice sleep, Pansy.”

“I wanted to be with Aurora! I bet you two will be together and get to have all the fun!”

Aurora laughed. “Don’t worry, we promise not to leave you out.” Pansy pouted. “You’ll be alright. You like Millicent, don’t you?” Pansy nodded grudgingly. “See? And we’ll have all of our classes together, and meals, and all our spare time apart from nights. Personally I think we’ll all be sick of each other.”

Daphne grinned. “Enjoy your nights then,” Pansy said, with one final glare before she went inside and slammed the door.

“I do enjoy a good Pansy tantrum,” Daphne said lightly as they carried on down the same corridor. “Look out for our names, will you?”

Aurora frowned, peering around. “Oh, there’s yours, Daphne. You’re with... Lucille.” Her heart dropped. That meant she was in with one of the other girls - one of the ones she hadn’t met yet.

“Oh, Good,” Daphne said cheerfully, then caught the disgruntled look on Aurora’s face. “Oh, sorry. I always thought they ought to keep the purebloods together, but I don’t suppose they can when there’s an odd number of us.”

“It’s not that,” Aurora mumbled, and Daphne looked surprised. “I don’t mind being with a half-blood, but I don’t know any of the other girls. It might be tricky.”

Daphne shrugged. “Well, I guess you will now. You barely knew me until today.” She grinned. “There’s Lucille coming just now. Lucille! Over here, we’re roommates.” Daphne turned to Aurora. “I’m sure you’re nearby. If you do have trouble, just knock on mine or Pansy’s door and you can sneak in for the night. Maybe knock on mine,” she added as an afterthought. “Millie’s snoring is quite dreadful.”

Aurora left her and Lucille to it with as graceful a smile as she could muster. She’d seen the way the other new students all looked at her, like they were scared of her. She’d heard someone whisper blood traitor earlier, and she wasn’t honestly sure which was worse. Maybe if her roommate was a half-blood then they wouldn’t care about her father being a blood traitor - but she knew anyone would care about her father being a murderer. But she wasn’t either, she reminded herself. She was a Black, she was not just Sirius Black’s daughter. She would be fine if she kept her chin up.

Her room was not far from Daphne’s, but it was on the other side of the corridor. The name below hers on the plate read Gwendolyn Tearston, who she remembered as the tall, blonde girl. Aurora allowed herself a moment to be nervous before she swallowed deeply, fixed her hair, tilted her chin, looked down her nose ever so slightly, and strode confidently into the room

Gwendolyn was already in there, talking hushedly and worriedly to two other girls - Tracey Davis and Clarissa Drought. They all shut up at once and looked up when Aurora entered, which was how she knew they had been talking about her. “Hello,” she greeted calmly, her gaze landing deliberately on each of them before she settled on Gwendolyn. “I’m Aurora.”

“We know,” Tracey Davis said, and shot a worried look at Gwendolyn.

The three girls didn’t say anything. “Are you going to introduce yourselves?” Aurora asked with an air of laziness, though she was beginning to feel rather unsettled now. It was one thing to be put in a room with someone she didn’t know, quite another to have that person so clearly not want to be near her.

It was Gwendolyn who had to take one for her team. “Gwendolyn Tearston,” she said, holding her head high and matching Aurora’s gaze. She had a pleasant, refined sort of voice, but it was the kind Aurora thought would make for an excellent singer, and would have a lovely laugh. “This is Tracey Davis and Clarissa Drought.”

Aurora knew this, of course. She smiled pleasantly as she said, “It’s nice to meet you. Did you know each other before coming to Hogwarts?”

The three girls looked between each other as though this was a dangerous question. Aurora’s lips thinned and she narrowed her eyes. Clarissa Drought gulped nervously, eyes wide. “Yes,” she said quickly. “Or at least, Tracey and I did. We met Gwendolyn on the train. We’re both half-bloods.”

Aurora nodded. “Alright.”

They glanced between each other again, in that way friends do when they are sharing the same thought. Aurora felt rather put out, but was sure they wouldn’t naturally include her in a silent conversation about herself. She wanted dearly to ask the two other girls to leave so she could speak to Gwendolyn without any nervous glares getting in the way, but she couldn’t very well ask. That wouldn’t do anything for their first impressions of her. Instead, she made to close the door behind her, and both Tracey and Clarissa hurried over, slipped out and disappeared down the hall. Aurora raised her eyebrows. Clearly they were very loyal friends. Not.

She turned instead to Gwendolyn, who had sat down on the edge of one of the beds and was looking anywhere but at Aurora. It wasn’t outright unpleasant, but she could feel the tension in the air, which was why she was awfully relieved to find that Stella was sitting curled up by the other bed. “Stella!” she cried, and Gwendolyn looked up sharply. Aurora rushed over, scooping her cat up in her arms. “I did wonder if they’d bring you here for me. Did they feed you?” Stella nodded and purred gently. “Good girl.”

“That’s your cat?” Gwendolyn asked, her voice somewhat shaky. Aurora nodded. “Oh. I thought it was a school one. To eat mice or something.”

“Oh, no,” Aurora said, stroking Stella’s head. “No, she’s much too lovely for that, don’t you think? She’s my lovely girl.”

She get to her feet and sat on the edge of the bed, looking at Gwendolyn, who appeared rather stiff and tight-lipped. She frowned. “You can say hello, if you’d like.” Gwendolyn shook her head furiously. “Don’t you like cats?”

“I do,” Gwendolyn said shortly, and then bit her lip as though nervous. “She’s very lovely, you’re right. I’m going to go to bed if you don’t mind.”

She hurried into their little shared bathroom and Aurora frowned at her back. Although she had never had much experience of making friends, she had never been refused one. And after her failure with Harry Potter - which was admittedly, partly her own fault, and partly Draco’s, and partly Potter, and partly the Weasley boy’s rat - this was an extra blow. Still, Gwendolyn wasn’t anybody important. She had never even heard of the Tearstons before. It was just frustrating. Because Gwendolyn looked at her like she was scared of her even though Aurora had never done anything cruel to her, and didn’t plan to unless she deserved it. So she knew it was because of her father. And she hated that.

When Gwendolyn came out of the bathroom, ready for bed, Aurora passed her without a word and they didn’t speak again the entire night.


	8. Professor Snape

Awkward though it was to suddenly sleep in a room with someone she’d never met before and who didn’t seem to like her at all, Aurora got in a good night’s sleep. She woke promptly in the morning, though Gwendolyn’s bed was already empty, and started writing a quick letter to Aunt Lucretia.

Dear Lucretia Prewett,

I hope my letter finds you well. Apologies for not writing last night, I was quite excited after the feast and wanted to settle into my room. I have been Sorted into Slytherin House, as I am sure you will be proud to hear. Draco and Pansy have both been made Slytherins along with me, as have some of their friends who I have met - Daphne Greengrass, Lucille Travers, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini and Millicent Bulstrode. Unfortunately I have not been placed into a room with any of those girls but with one Gwendolyn Tearston, whom I have never heard of, and who does not seem to like me at all. Nevertheless, I am determined to do well in classes and within the social circle of my house. If you have any advice for my situation, I would very much appreciate it.

Yours Sincerely,

Aurora Black

She sealed the letter before she got dressed, and then headed out into the grounds to search for the Owlery. It took her a long while to find, with the assistance of a third year boy, and she decided upon the handsomest of the school owls to send to Aunt Lucretia. After, she hurried to a bathroom to wash her hands thoroughly - the Owlery was not a particularly sanitary-looking place - and then back the Great Hall for breakfast, retracing her steps from the night before.

Pansy and Millicent were already seated together, gossiping, and welcomed Aurora over. “We didn’t see you in the common room,” Pansy said.

“I went to send a letter to my aunt,” Aurora explained as she sat down, eying the spread of food before her. “In the Owlery. It took my forever to find.”

“Oh, good,” Millicent said, “you can show me this evening then, I have no idea where to find it.”

Aurora smiled and decided to have some porridge to begin the day with. “Who are you sharing a room with?” Pansy asked her. “Only Daphne said she’s with Lucille, and I was ever so worried about you.”

“Gwendolyn Tearston,” Aurora told her. She wasn’t surprised when Pansy pulled a face. “Do you know her?”

“Know her? No, of course not. Nobody seems to.” She exchanged a significant look with Millicent. “I’m sure she must be Muggle born.”

“We don’t know that,” Millicent said, helping herself to bacon. “Perhaps she just doesn’t get out much. Aurora didn’t.”

“Aurora is a pureblood,” Pansy reminded Millicent with a sharp look.

“Is she nice, though?” Millicent asked Aurora.

“I haven’t really spoken to her,” Aurora replied, and Pansy nodded understandingly. “I wasn’t the one at fault, though. She already had Davis and Drought in the room with her, I’m sure they must have been gossiping, and then she made no effort to talk to me whatsoever.” She hesitated before adding, “I think she’s scared of me.”

Pansy scoffed. “Well, I’m afraid I can’t say I’m awfully surprised, Aurora. Any Mudblood would be.”

That didn’t help Aurora at all. She glared at Pansy, who didn’t seem to care, and was immensely grateful when Draco sat down on her other side, with Blaise, Daphne and Lucille behind him. “This place is awfully confusing, isn’t it? We couldn’t find our way at all.” He winced at Aurora. “Rotten luck with roommates, Aurora. Who did you get?”

“Tearston,” she said tiredly. Draco pulled a face.

“She seems an awful wimp,” he said. “I saw her with that Davis and Drought this morning in the common room. She looked like she had been crying.” He eyed her interestedly. “Did you hex her or something?”

“No,” Aurora said, “of course not. I’m not quite so interested in making enemies as you seem to be, Draco.” To her satisfaction, Draco did blush somewhat abashedlg. “And besides, I wouldn’t have gotten the chance to hex her, for she was already gone when I woke up.”

Draco sniffed. “Well, the less you have to keep company with her the better, I suppose. You’ll sit with me in class, won’t you?”

She blinked in surprise, but nodded quickly. “Of course.”

“Draco,” Pansy whined, “I was going to sit with you!”

“Yeah, well, you should have asked,” Draco said, then grinned at Aurora. Pansy seemed quite put out, but she didn’t care much. Draco already knew way more spells than Pansy did - he would be a good partner for the class.

It was a short while before Professor Snape - a sallow-faced, dark haired man - came around the Slytherin table to hand everyone their timetables for the year. Today, as it was a Monday, they had Charms first, then Defense Against the Dark Arts both second and fourth periods, as well as History of Magic in their third period, right after lunch. The notice under Defense Against the Dark Arts said that they shared this with Gryffindor on a Monday, which made Draco groan loudly.

“That’ll be awful,” he said. “What else do we have with them?”

“Only Potions,” Aurora said, scanning the parchment. “Double period first thing on Friday.”

“Oh, that’ll be alright then,” Draco said cheerfully. “Snape likes us all well, and he always treats Slytherins better than Gryffindors.”

Aurora sniffed. “Well, I don’t think I’ll need his special treatment.”

Draco grinned. “Of course you won’t.”

Charms was a rather interesting class. Aurora liked Professor Flitwick, a very short but cheerful man who seemed determined to encourage every one of them. They hadn’t done any practical soellwork with him yet, but he said he wanted them to understand the theory first, which made sense. Aurora took diligent notes despite Draco’s teasing, and while Professor Quirrel was a rubbish teacher, and smelled horribly of garlic, she did the same in Defense Against the Dark Arts, while diligently avoiding the Gryffindors. Draco did the same, still seeming a bit embarrassed about Harry Potter. History of Magic was dull, because the Professor was dull, and Aurora thought it was a shame. Listening to a ghost drone on for an hour was awfully difficult, but she knew it was important, and by the end of class she had the most notes of anyone.

“Don’t know why you bothered,” Pansy said, “it’s not useful anyway. Who cares about goblin rebellions?”

“I think it’s important to know our history,” Aurora replied, and Pansy still asked to use her notes when it came to writing essays.

Aunt Lucretia wrote a short reply that arrived just after dinner. Aurora was quite proud of the school owl for such a speedy communication. All the letter said was that Aurora had done well to get into Slytherin, and that she ought to remember who her friends were - by which she clearly meant Draco and Pansy. But there was no worry about that. Gwendolyn wouldn’t talk to her at all, which was highly frustrating.

They spent every evening that week in silence, Aurora typically reading something about Potions or Transfiguration, while Gwendolyn either read her own book or left the room, presumably to be with Davis and Drought, who she seemed friendly with. As long as she didn’t bother her, Aurora decided, it didn’t matter if they were friends or not.

Friday was a very important day. While Aurora had been fascinated by her Transfiguration class, and was the only student who had managed to turn a matchstick into a needle by the end of the class - Draco and Pansy were both very jealous, as Draco had only gotten his to go a bit pointy, and Pansy had had no success whatsoever - it was Potions that she most looked forwards to. In addition to it being a fascinating aspect of magic, she was attracted by the prospect of proper partner work, and a teacher who preferred Slytherin. While Professor McGonagall had been nice, Aurora got the distinct impression that she didn’t like her or her housemates very much.

Gwendolyn was, for once, present when Aurora woke on Friday morning, though she looked extremely nervous about it. Aurora smiled thinly at her and set about getting dressed, packing her books and potions ingredients into her bag. She also polished her wand quickly, to ensure its accuracy in Potions. Gwendolyn was still fussing over her hair when Aurora was ready, and she lingered by her bed for a moment, wondering if she should wait to walk to breakfast together.

Gwendolyn met her gaze in the mirror and turned around sharply. “Why are you still here?”

Aurora arched a cool eyebrow. “This is my room.”

“No, but you’re clearly ready to leave. You don’t need to lurk over my shoulder.” She sounded almost nervous. Aurora laughed, smirking, which didn’t seem to calm Gwendolyn at all.

“I wasn’t lurking,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Merely watching you.” This only seemed to disconcert Gwendolyn more, so Aurora changed tack. “I was going to offer to walk to breakfast with you, since you’re here. But if you’d rather be alone, then fine. I’ll go and find Pansy.”

With that, she picked up her bag and flounced from the room, face red. Why did Gwendolyn not want to speak to her? Well, she knew why, but it didn’t make it any more frustrating. She hadn’t even done anything to her. Yet.

“Ah, good,” Pansy said, coming out of her room just as Aurora walked past. “Come on, Millie, Aurora’s here!”

Millicent hurried out of their room, and grinned at Aurora. “Is Tearston still not speaking to you?”

“No,” Aurora muttered. “I almost offered to walk her to breakfast, but she seemed terrified of the thought.”

Pansy snorted. “Don’t worry yourself about people like her, Aurora. You have us.”

After a quick breakfast, Aurora went back down to the dungeons with Pansy, Draco and the others, where they lined up eagerly outside Professor Snape’s classroom. Some of the Gryffindors were already there, Potter and Weasley among them, muttering under their breath. “Do you think he’ll have us doing practical work in the first lesson?”

“Oh, I bet he will,” Daphne said. “McGonagall did, and he will do the same I’m sure. Doesn’t he just seem the type to give us hard work in the first lesson?”

They all nodded in agreement, and then the door swung open to reveal Professor Snape, looking sour and rather bat-like. His eyes tracked over the students, landing heavily on Aurora, and then he said softly, “In.”

They all followed him, Aurora gazing around in excitement. This room was darker than the rest of the dungeons, but it was very refined while at the same time managing to be homely. She rather liked it, with its low basins and clustered worktables. “With me,” Draco said, and dragged her to a desk at the front of the classroom, right beneath Professor Snape’s watchful eyes. Aurora stared around her; there were jars of various ingredients such as eel eyes around the walls, and while Draco considered them very warily, she just smiled. She was used to this kind of thing, thought it did remind her painfully of Arcturus. She wished she had been able to write to him rather than Aunt Lucretia about Hogwarts. He would have given her a much lengthier letter than she had, Aurora was certain.

She took out her parchment, textbook and wand and laid them neatly on her desk as the other students filed into class behind her. Potter was talking loudly to Weasley, and she noticed Professor Snape immediately looking at them with dislike. She smirked. This would be interesting, if Professor Snape took the Gryffindors down a peg. They were already awfully rowdy and loud behind their station.

Once the class settled, Professor Snape looked around again. He had the sort of presence that made everybody hush, and sit up and take notice of him. Aurora wondered if he had always been like that. It was a very good skill to have.

“Let us begin,” he said softly, eyes glittering as he looked around the room, “with the register.”

He was looking at Aurora as he said this and she tried not to let her discomfort show. Every other teacher had shown a reaction to her name, apart from McGonagall and Binns, and she didn’t want him to make a fuss. She tried to tell him this with her eyes, but it didn’t seem to work. “Aurora Black,” he said quietly, and his voice wasn’t so soft anymore. It was sharp, with an edge to it that she didn’t like. “Interesting to see you here.” She swallowed, and glanced at Draco, who appeared surprised. “Tell me, Black. Have you opened your textbook yet?”

She frowned. “Yes, sir. I’ve read it through to prepare.”

A sneer contorted Professor Snape’s face. “We shall see. Black, where would I find a bezoar?”

She blinked. That was an easy question. “In the stomach of a goat, sir.”

Rather than satisfy the Professor, this only seemed to infuriate him. “And the twelve uses of dragon blood?”

That one was not so easy. Even Hermione Granger, who had flung her hand up in the air when Professor Snape first questioned Aurora, looked uncertain. Aurora was uncertain too, but she wasn’t about to let Professor Snape See that. “The First is as an oven cleaner,” she said as confidently as she could, “the second as a spot remover, and a cure for verrucas. It can also be used as a cure for boils, to reduce inflammation of a wound, and to reduce swelling.” She counted in her head. That was six of twelve. Professor Snape was glaring at her, seemingly frustrated that she had been able to answer him at all. “The others are... glueing over material breakages, they can be used in blood based spells, get rid of frostbite...” Nine of twelve. She frowned, trying to remember. She knew she’d read it at some point, not only in her Potions reading but during her reading about Hogwarts. It was Professor Dumbledore who had discovered the twelve uses, after all. She ran over what she’d already said. “I believe it can also cure... pneumonia? If it’s used in a potion - the Lung Warming Potion.”

Snape’s eyes glittered and he said coolly, “And is that all, Miss Black?” He said it like he was challenging her. She was determined to accept that challenge.

“No,” she said quickly, holding her head higher in defiance. Someone gasped lightly behind her. Even Hermione Granger appeared stumped now. She wracked her brain. Everyone was watching her and she was determined not to lose face. “It can also be used in some green dyes, and... and...” She frowned, trying her best to recall the final use. “And it can also ward off... Doxies.” That was it, she knew. She smiled proudly, meeting Snape’s glittering gaze.

He considered her for a long moment and she held her breath and his gaze. “You are correct, Miss Black,” he spat. “But I do not appreciate show offs in my classroom.”

Her heart fell. She hadn’t been showing off. “With respect, sir,” she began, ignoring Draco’s urgent look, “I only answered your question.”

Snape’s eyes flashed. “Do not speak back to me, girl,” he hissed, and she flinched in surprise. No one had spoken to her like that. “Millicent Bulstrode!”

Behind Aurora, Millicent startled. “Yes, sir?”

“I prefer you to say here to mark your presence.”

Aurora blinked. He wasn’t going to question her, too? Millicent said, “Here,” and then Snape moved on, so clearly not. Why her, then? She glanced at Draco, who looked equally confused as Professor Snape made his way down the register. He was very nearly warm towards Draco, which shocked Aurora. What had he done that she hadn’t?

The only other person he picked on was Harry Potter, who looked just as confused as Aurora felt when Snape asked, “What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

She knew the answer. It would create a Draught of Living Death. Potter didn’t seem to know, though Granger seemed to be straining to answer. Aurora would have done the same, had she not already been called a show off. She tried to mime to Granger to put her hand down, but Snape caught her. “Miss Black, I would appreciate if you didn’t try to assist Potter. If he does not bother to learn before he comes to class, that is on his own head.”

Her cheeks blazed. That wasn’t what she was trying to do at all, but she didn’t think telling Professor Snape her real intention would go down better. She kept her mouth shut. “Potter?” Snape said softly. He still hadn’t answered.

“I don’t know, sir,” Potter said quietly.

Snape sneered. “Tut, tut. Clearly, fame isn’t everything.” Aurora technically agreed with him, and didn’t like Potter, but she still rolled her eyes on principle. What was Snape up to, picking on both her and Potter? “And what, Potter,” he continued, “is the difference between Monkshood and Wolfsbane.”

Aurora thought there was no difference. She couldn’t tell if Professor Snape was trying to trick Potter or if she was wrong. Either way, Potter didn’t seem to know this answer either. Granger did. She was about to jump out of her seat to answer, Aurora thought. “I don’t know, sir,” Potter said, and then added boldly, “but I think Hermione does, so why don’t you ask her?”

Snape’s eyes flashed dangerously. That had been a big mistake on Potter’s part. “Two points from Gryffindor, I think, Potter. For cheek.” Potter’s cheeks went very red. “Miss Granger, do stop waving your hand about and sit down.” She did so at once, also red in the face. “The answers, Potter, is that infusion of wormwood and powdered root of asphodel combine to make a Draught of Living Death. As for the difference between Monkshood and Wolfsbane, there is none. It may also be known as aconite.”

He continued the register without another word to Potter or Aurora, and when he reached Blaise’s name, he folded his arms and surveyed them all with cool indifference. “There will be no foolish wandwaving in this class,” he began, voice soft. “I don’t expect many of you will truly appreciate it as magic, or really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through the veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses. I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death.” Aurora shivered, but not of fear. It sounded beautiful, the way he was describing it. “If you aren’t as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.”

Aurora was certain that she would not be. She wanted to bottle fame, brew glory... Put a stopper in death. A smile spread across her face. “We will begin by brewing a Cure for Boils.” Professor Snape flicked his wand and the instructions appeared in chalk in his blackboard. Aurora read it quickly and scribbled it down, before starting to heat her cauldron gently.

She measured, sliced and added everything carefully, checking her notes and the board between steps. Once she was finished the first round of ingredients, she waved her wand and let the potion rest while preparing the other ingredients - horned slugs and porcupine quills. She set a timer for thirty minutes’ time and flipped through the notes in her textbook interestedly. “Yours looks good,” Draco said, looking over and sniffing. “Smells funny, though.”

“I think it’s meant to at this stage,” she said, looking at her potion. “Concentrate on your own, Draco, it isn’t meant to be that colour.”

Draco went pink and Aurora grinned at him, checking on her own potion every few minutes just to ensure it was going as it should. When the resting period was over, she added four horned slugs and stirred the cauldron until they reduced and liquidised a little, before taking it off the heat. She let it cool for a minute, just to be on the safe side, before she added two porcupine quills. She stirred it clockwise five times, and waved her wand. The potion had pretty pink smoke rising from it in pleasantly amusing rings. Aurora smiled and extinguished the flame on her desk, before quickly bottling the cauldron.

She very nearly dropped a vial when there was a yell from the other end of the classroom: Neville Longbottom’s cauldron had melted and he was covered in potion, which stank awfully. He mustn’t have taken it off the heat.

“Foolish boy,” Snape muttered, cleaning up the mess. “I suppose you put the porcupine quills in before you took it off the heat?”

Neville nodded meekly. His hands had erupted into horrid, painful-looking boils, and Aurora winced in sympathy. “And you, Potter. You didn’t stop him?” Potter’s eyes widened. “Suppose you thought you’d make yourself look better if Longbottom messed up his potion? Two more points from Gryffindor, Potter.”

Draco sniggered next to Aurora. She shook her head at him. “Well,” Snape said, looking around, “the rest of you ought to have finished by now. Let me take a look.”

Aurora swallowed nervously as Snape stalked between the aisles. He criticised almost everyone, though he was silent as he looked at Hermione Granger’s potion. Considering her skill in other classes, Aurora thought that might mean it was good. He came over to them quietly and sneered as he looked into Aurora’s cauldron. “Is this really your work?” She blinked at him.

“Yes, Professor.”

“Draco? Is this true?”

Draco looked rather bewildered. “Yes, sir. She brewed it herself.”

Snape made a hmph noise. “It is adequate. Draco here has made an exemplary potion.”

Aurora looked over at his cauldron. Hers was far closer to the description in the textbook, and Snape knew it. She glared at him. “Yes, Miss Black?” he asked silkily, catching her glare with a cruel smile. “Is there a problem?”

“No, sir,” she said quickly, cheeks blazing. “I was just looking to see what Draco did better than I.”

Snape glared at her, but seemed to find no fault. He stalked behind her to examine Millicent and Lucille’s potions, and she breathed quietly in relief.

“I don’t know why old Snape dislikes you,” Draco whispered once they left the classroom. “Even I didn’t know the twelve uses of dragon blood.”

“I don’t know why either,” Aurora whispered back. “He doesn’t like Potter either, though. At least I didn’t get points taken off of me.”

“Even so,” Draco said. “It seemed most unfair to me. I don’t know why you tried to help him out with his answers.”

She laughed. “I didn’t. I was trying to get Granger to stop making a fool out of herself. She was desperate to answer. And he called me a show off!” Her laugh turned bitter.

Draco smirked. “Yes, Granger does seem quite a know it all, doesn’t she? Not as much as you.”

“I am not a know it all,” Aurora scolded him, with a light glare. “I’m just a good student.”

Draco laughed at her as they set off to the common room for break. “And this is why I sit with you in class.”

Aurora’s sour mood over Professor Snape persisted for the rest of the day, right through Defense Against the Dark Arts and Transfiguration, the latter of which she would normally enjoy. She didn’t understand why Professor Snape had taken such an immediate dislike to her, to the point of singling her out amongst his students. “Black,” McGonagall said sharply, attracting Aurora’s attention. “Eyes on your match, please.”

“Sorry, Professor.” She flushed, cheeks blazing red, and promptly turned the matchstick into a needle. McGonagall’s mouth twitched into what might have been a smile, though she hid it. Aurora smiled though.

Although she couldn’t forget about Professor Snape’s attitude towards her, Aurora did cheer up by the time dinner came around, and afterwards she sent another letter off to Aunt Lucretia telling her about her week in great detail. Neither Pansy nor Draco were in the common room when she got back, so Aurora went to her room instead. Gwendolyn was in, and seemed to be concentrating very hard on changing a matchstick into a needle. Her face was screwed up and slightly red. Aurora watched her curiously, sitting down and holding Stella in her lap.

Gwendolyn noticed her gaze and looked up, going even redder. “Yes?”

“Nothing,” Aurora said quickly. “I was just watching you.”

This seemed to greatly unnerve Gwendolyn, which hadn’t even been Aurora’s intention. She would much rather she was unnerved because she’d actually done something. “Please don’t,” Gwendolyn mumbled, and then hurried out of the room without another word, closing the door behind her.

Aurora sighed heavily and sank backwards to lie on her bed, staring at the four poster green hangings. Stella purred gently, standing on her chest now. “Are other people always like this?” she wondered aloud. Stella just meowed and went to play with a ball of wool on the floor.


	9. Flying with Lions

A week had passed since the beginning of term when a notice was put up on the notice board in the Slytherin Common Room. “Flying lessons,” Aurora read off cheerfully to Draco, Pansy and Millicent. “Excellent.”

“Not excellent,” Pansy said. “Read the rest.”

“On Thursday afternoon... With Gryffindor!” Her mouth fell open in protest. That just wasn’t fair. They’d all be insufferable and reckless. “Really?”

“You’re not scared are you, Aurora?”

“Scared?” She scoffed at Millicent. “Of the Gryffindors? Do you know me?”

“Of being shown up,” Millicent clarified, and both Draco and Pansy laughed on Aurora’s behalf, which made her feel quite good.

“No Gryffindor is going to show Aurora up,” Pansy said, quite confidently. “Or Draco, but Aurora will probably show him up.”

“Excuse me,” Draco said, quite offended. Aurora laughed and bumped his shoulder easily.

“I’ll go easy on you if we race,” she said. “Promise.”

The week leading up to their flying lesson, everybody got more and more excited as they discussed flying. Draco told anybody who would listen about his daring escapes from a Muggle helicopter, which Aurora knew was complete nonsense, but it was very entertaining to hear him tell it. She didn’t feel the need to brag, though if anybody asked she would tell them how she’d been flying since she was five, and was determined to try out for the Quidditch team as soon as they allowed.

“Girls aren’t allowed on the Slytherin team,” Blaise Zabini pointed out to her, and she pointed her needle at his eye. He shut up immediately.

It seemed the only person who hadn’t been on a broom before was Gwendolyn, who had read multiple books on the subject in their room when she thought Aurora wasn’t paying attention. “It isn’t something you have to study for, you know,” she told her tiredly on Wednesday night as they were getting into bed. Gwendolyn looked at her warily. “Flying, I mean. If you think you can do it, then you can.”

Gwendolyn still looked awfully worried. “You said you’d been flying since you were five.”

“Well, yes, I have.”

“So obviously you know you can do it. It’s like walking or talking or writing. But I’ve not. And you know everyone else is great. I’ve heard Malfoy.”

Aurora smiled and looked conspiratorially at Gwendolyn. She considered it for a moment before she said, “Don’t tell him I told you so, but Draco’s flying stories are a lot of nonsense. He’s just showing off.”

Gwendolyn looked at her in surprise. “Really?”

“Yes. He is rather bad for that, actually.” She shook her head fondly and Gwendolyn resumed their silence, which Aurora took as her cue to go to sleep.

When they finally went down into the grounds for the flying lesson, the sun was bright and the sky blue and Aurora had to resist the urge to skip. It would have been most undignified of her, but she was ever so excited to be on a broom again, racing through the sky with the wind in her hair. She hadn’t been on a broom since... Well, since before Arcturus died. She slowed at the thought, wondering what he might think of her and how she got on with her yearmates. With the exception of Draco and Pansy, she didn’t have any friends she would seek out to talk to. Of course, there were Millicent and Daphne, and even Lucille and Blaise and Theodore, but they were more Draco and Pansy’s friends than hers. And even despite their civil conversation the night before, she certainly wouldn’t count Gwendolyn Tearston as a friend. She had been sneaking Aurora nervous looks all day, whispering to Davis.

Aurora ignored her though. Nothing would ruin her flying lesson. Not even Gryffindors.

They got there before the Gryffindors, and divided off into their own clusters, Aurora standing with Draco, Pansy, Vincent and Gregory. “I say, I wish they’d let us bring our own brooms,” Draco said, eyeing the school brooms that lay on the ground with great suspicion. “These things don’t look up to much.”

“I think that’s a Shooting Star,” Aurora said, wrinkling her nose at a battered old broom near them. “Let’s leave that one for Potter.”

Draco laughed, grinning at her, as the Gryffindors came marching down the hill from the castle. “Here they come,” Pansy muttered. “Potter’s in the lead.”

“I bet he is,” Aurora muttered in response, and she and the others all moved quickly to get good brooms before the Gryffindors took them all up. She noticed Gwendolyn looking nervous and caught her eye, giving what she hoped was an encouraging smile.

Gwendolyn just stared at her, whispered something to Tracey Davis, and then stared down at her broom.

The Gryffindors lined up together, each standing over a broom. Potter was opposite Aurora, and she smirked when she caught his eye. She’d heard him saying already that he had never been on a broom before, so she dearly hoped he hadn’t heard similar advice to that she’d given Gwendolyn. This could be highly amusing, if so.

Their instructor, Madam Hooch, arrived a moment later, once they were all standing by their brooms. “Well? What are you all waiting for? Everybody stand by a broom, that’s it.” Aurora looked down at hers, one of the more tenderly cared for ones. She would even say it might have come out within the last decade. “Stick your right hand out over your brooms,” Madam Hooch instructed. “And say up.”

“Up!” everybody shouted.

Aurora grinned when hers shot into her hand immediately and glanced around. Draco had managed it too, of course, though to her dismay, Potter had, too. He was looking at her rather sourly, so she smirked and glanced away. Gwendolyn was still frowning at her broom, muttering, “Up. Up!” under her breath until finally, the handle flew into her grasp and she beamed at Davis. Aurora was also pleasantly surprised when watching Weasley, as he took great pains to get his broom to move, and when it did, it smacked up to hit him in the nose. She couldn’t help but laugh.

Once they had all gotten their brooms in their hands - Neville and Granger both took an awfully long time - Madam Hooch showed them how to climb on without sliding off the end, which Aurora knew perfectly well, though she supposed some did need the teaching. At least this would be an easy class to pass. Madam Hooch came around to correct their grips, and told Aurora hers was perfect, but told Draco he had been doing it wrong for years. Quite amused by the reddening of his cheeks, Aurora smirked at him, and he gave her a dirty look in response.

“Now, when I blow my whistle, you’re to kick off from the ground, hard. Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet and then come straight back down by leaning forwards. On my whistle.” Aurora prepared herself, bending her knees. “Three - two-“

But Neville Longbottom kicked off already. He was white and clearly frightened, but shot straight up in the air, looking against. “Come down here at once, child!” Madam Hooch yelled up at him. He went up further, twenty feet, face white, and then made the terrible error of looking down. Aurora could almost see it happening before it did. He gawped downat the ground, face going almost green, and slid sideways off of his broom.

“Neville!” Aurora cried, as he plummeted downwards and landed with his face in the ground.

Madam Hooch hurried over to him, her face quite as pale as his was, and Aurora watched worriedly. “His wrist’s broken,” Hooch muttered. “Come on now, it’s alright, up you get.”

She pulled a tremblingly pale Neville up to standing and turned to face the rest of the class. “None of you are to move while I take this boy up to the Hospital Wing! You leave these brooms where they are or you’ll be out of Hogwarts before you can saw Quidditch.” Aurora dropped her broom instantly. “Come on now, dear.”

Neville started crying, holding his wrist tearfully as he went up to the castle with Madam Hooch, who had her arm tightly around him.

Draco burst out laughing, and Aurora shot him a disapproving look. “Did you see his face?”

“Don’t be mean, Draco,” she told him primly.

“It was pathetic,” he said, and Crabbe, Goyle and even Pansy joined in the laughter.

“Shut up, Malfoy,” snarled Parvati Patil, a Gryffindor.

“Oh, sticking up for Longbottom, are we?”

Pansy laughed. “Never thought you’d like fat little crybabies, Parvati.”

“Pansy,” Aurora scolded, rolling her eyes. She stood closer to Theodore Nott, who looked quite as disapproving as she felt. Draco did have a tendency to make a scene, and she didn’t want to watch this one. She wasn’t friends with Neville, but sometimes she thought she might have been, had her father turned out different, and knowing what she did about his parents, she couldn’t help but feel bad for the boy.

“Look!” Draco was saying, as he bent down to pick something red up from the ground. “It’s that stupid thing his grandmother sent him.”

The Remembrall glistened in the sunlight as he held it up. “Give it here, Malfoy,” Potter said in a quiet voice.

Aurora raised her eyebrows at him, and Draco smirked. “How about no. I think I’ll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find. How about up a tree?”

“Draco, stop it,” Aurora said sharply, sensing what was about to happen. He was still holding his broom. “Stop making a scene, and just give it to Potter.”

Draco raised his eyebrows. “Do you like Longbottom now, Aurora?”

“No,” she told him, firmer than she’d intended. “But I don’t want you breaking any rules. Or starting fights.”

“You know I could take Potter.”

“Even so, it’s against the rules.”

Draco grinned at her. “Like that really matters. Come help me find somewhere - you’re the best flier, after all.”

“No,” she said firmly.

Draco smirked. “Suit yourself, then.”

“Give it here!” Potter shouted, but it was too late.

Draco leapt onto his broom, and soared away instantly as Aurora had known he would, clutching the stupid Remembrall in his hand. “Idiot,” she muttered under her breath, so that only Theodore could hear.

Draco flew level with the topmost branches of the trees and called down, “You want it, Potter? Come and get it!”

Potter grabbed his broom and Aurora groaned. “No!” Granger shouted, in a surprising show of clarity. “Madam Hooch told us not to move, you’ll get everybody in trouble!”

It didn’t stop Potter, and Aurora hadn’t expected it to, though clearly Hermione Granger had. Potter climbed onto his own broom and soared up, too, making some of the others gasp. He was a surprisingly good flier, actually, Aurora thought. Especially for his first time. He turned his broom sharply to face Draco, who was clearly just as surprised by his skills as Aurora was.

“Give it here!” Potter called loudly. “Or I’ll knock you off your broom!”

“He does that,” Aurora muttered, “I’ll hex him into next week.”

Theodore smiled faintly. She couldn’t hear what Draco’s reply was, but she could tell he was worried. Potter flew sharply towards him and Aurora gasped in surprised, as Draco only just got out of the way in time. Potter wheeled around sharply and the Gryffindors started cheering for him, which Aurora thought was quite unnecessary and entirely over the top.

“No Crabbe and Goyle to save you up here!” Potter was shouting, and Draco seemed to have realised the same. He stared down at Aurora and made a gesture for her to join him. She shook her head. She had told him so, and she wasn’t going to get involved in this drama, unless Potter actually did knock him off his broom.

“Catch it if you can then!” Draco yelled, and promptly threw the Remembrall into the air and zoomed back down the the ground. Aurora watched as Potter turned sharply and streaked after it, chasing the ball right down to the ground in a hard, steep dive. He caught it just before it reached the ground and shattered, and Aurora stared, begrudgingly impressed.

“What was that about?” Draco asked Aurora. “I thought you’d back me up!”

But she didn’t say anything. Professor McGonagall was marching over to them, white in the face. “He’s in for it now,” Aurora muttered. “Good thing I didn’t come up there after all. Then we all would have been in real trouble.”

Draco pulled a face. “HARRY POTTER!” McGonagall yelled as Potter got to his feet, shaking. “Never - in all my time at Hogwarts - how dare you - might have broken your neck!”

“It wasn’t his fault, Professor!”

“Quiet, Miss Patil.”

“But Malfoy-“

“That’ll do, Mr Weasley. Potter, follow me, now.”

Draco was grinning as Potter was led away. Aurora rolled her eyes. “You had to make a scene out of it, didn’t you? Why couldn’t you just leave it alone?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Draco asked, and she glared at him. “It’s only Longbottom, Aurora. And besides, now Potter might even get expelled.” He looked extremely excited by the prospect.

Aurora sighed. “I suppose.” Weasley was glaring at them both, and Granger muttering under her breath. “It’s a shame we can’t fly though. I wanted to show you up.”

“Getting confident, are we?”

“I’m not getting confident, Draco. I am confident.” She grinned. “But let’s leave the rule breaking for now, yeah?”

Draco, unfortunately, couldn’t resist. “I’m going to talk to him,” he said at dinner.

“Who?” Aurora asked distractedly, stuck between eating shepherd’s pie and reading through a Potions guide.

“Potter.”

“Oh. Is he still here?”

“For now.” Draco stood up. “Crabbe, Goyle, with me. Aurora?”

“Busy.”

“Potions? Really? You’re better than that.”

“Potter?” she mimicked. “Really? You’re better than that.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “If you want to be boring, fine. Come on, boys.”

“He’s going to get himself in trouble,” Aurora said, frowning after Draco as he left.

Pansy sniffed. “I notice he asked you to join him and not me.”

“And?” Aurora stared at her. “Why shouldn’t he?”

Pansy didn’t reply. She stood up and moved to sit next to Daphne and Lucille instead, leaving Aurora alone opposite Theodore and Blaise, who both shrugged. “Don’t mind Pansy,” Blaise told her.

“I don’t,” Aurora replied tightly, returning to her meal.

Draco returned with Crabbe and Goyle a few minutes later, looking smug. “That’ll show Potter,” he said.

“What did you do?” Blaise asked with interest.

“Challenged him to a wizard’s duel.” His eyes lit up. “At midnight.”

“You can’t be serious,” Aurora muttered. “Don’t you care how much trouble you’ll get in if you’re caught?”

“That’s why it’s so genius, see,” Draco told her, and sat down gleefully. “I’m not really going to go. Potter will go to the trophy room with Weasley at midnight, well after curfew, and if Filch happens to get an anonymous tip from a student that they’re going to be out in the hall at night...” He smirked and Aurora grinned.

“You’re terrible,” she told him, but was pleased with how devious he had managed to be.

“I thought you’d approve,” he said cheerfully, and stole a roast potato from her plate. “This way, I can’t get in trouble.”

Aurora shook her head ruefully and stole one of Draco’s Yorkshire puddings, smirking at him. “Well, yes, you had better not.”


	10. Midnight Feast

Aurora was shocked to find Potter and Weasley both still at the Gryffindor table the next morning, looking pale and tired but quite cheerful. Draco was horrified. “How have they gotten away with it?” he asked, glaring fiercely. He held his fork so tightly Aurora thought it might break. “How?”

“I don’t know,” Aurora said, narrowing her eyes in dislike at the pair of them. “They must have gotten very, very lucky.”

“Or someone tipped them off,” Pansy said, glaring around the table.

“No,” Aurora said, “they definitely went. See how tired they look? Like they’ve been up all night.”

Draco nodded, grimacing. “And now we’ll have to suffer all the way through Potions with them.”

“Don’t remind me,” Aurora groaned. She was already starting to hate the class that she’d thought would be her favourite. It was, ironically, being replaced by Transfiguration. At least McGonagall didn’t seem to hate her disproportionately to literally everyone except Harry Potter.

“Oh, cheer up, Aurora,” Pansy told her. “At least it’s only two weeks until your birthday.”

That did cheer her up a bit, until she remembered she would also have a Potions class on her birthday. Draco laughed at her as they continued breakfast and set off towards their class.

When they got there, Aurora was pleased to note that Longbottom’s wrist appeared fully healed. Granger fussed over him, asking how it felt and how easily he could move his fingers, while Potter and Weasley both sent Draco superior looks, clearly smug that they had gotten out of any punishment for being out of bed after hours. Draco looked incredibly sour about this, and Aurora wasn’t surprised. “Cheer up,” she told him just before they went in, “the last thing I want is a class partner who can’t even make me laugh.”

That Potions class went on just as the last had, and Aurora was in a typically bad mood at the end. Gwendolyn, who seemed to sense the anger radiating off of her throughout the day, squeaked when Aurora entered their room after their final class and promptly hurried off to her own friends. Aurora just rolled her eyes. She was, sadly, used to this by now. It didn’t matter. She sat with Draco, Pansy and Daphne in the common room working away on their homework - well, the girls were. Draco was still fuming about Potter not being expelled.

A week later, Potter got a broomstick in the post at breakfast. “You have got to be kidding me,” Aurora said, jaw dropping open. First of all, he’d explicitly broken Madam Hooch’s rule, gotten caught and not gotten even got so much as a single house point taken off in punishment. Second of all, he had broken curfew and either not gotten caught at all or had gotten away without a punishment. And now he got sent a broomstick? When first years explicitly were not allowed to bring their own broomsticks to Hogwarts? Even Aurora and Draco hadn’t brought their own.

Draco went to corner Potter after breakfast, Aurora with him. It was entirely unfair. Crabbe and Goyle blocked Potter and Weasley’s way and Draco seized the broom. “That’s a broomstick. You’re in for it now, Potter,” Draco said. “First years aren’t allowed them.”

“It’s not any old broomstick,” Weasley said, beaming. “That’s a Nimbus Two Thousand.” Aurora felt herself drain. That was the best broom on the market. Even Draco didn’t have one. “What did you say you’ve got at home, Malfoy, the old Comet Two Sixty? Comets are flashy, but they’re not in the same league as the Nimbus.”

“And what do you have at home, Weasley?” Aurora snarked back. “Do you even have a broom?”

“I bet he couldn’t afford half the handle,” Draco said, sneeringly. The tips of Weasley’s ears went red. “I bet you and your brothers have to save up twig by twig.”

Aurora thought that was going a little bit far. Judging by Weasley’s face, he thought Draco had just well overstepped the mark. Thankfully, they were spared from any actual fight by the arrival of Professor Flitwick. “Not fighting I hope, boys? And Miss Black?”

Aurora shook her head and gave Flitwick a pleasant, warm smile. “Not at all, Professor. We were merely appreciating Harry’s new broomstick.”

“Oh, yes, I’ve heard all about this,” Flitwick said cheerfully. “Professor McGonagall told me the special circumstances.” Special circumstances? What circumstances were special enough that Potter got to break the rules? “What model is it?”

“A Nimbus Two Thousand, sir,” Potter said. He looked like he was trying not to laugh at Aurora and Draco. She knew they both probably looked outraged, because they were. She didn’t know why Potter got sent a broomstick, but she had a feeling it had to do with that stupid scar on his forehead. Professor Flitwick had after all been very taken by his fame. Then Potter added, “And it’s really thanks to Malfoy here that I got it.”

Aurora thought Draco was going to explode. She sent Potter a nasty look as she thrust his stupid broom back into his arms and tugged Draco away with her. “That - that -“ She spluttered. “It’s completely unfair! What right does he have to break the rules?”

“Stupid scarhead Potter,” Draco muttered.

“Exactly! That’s it, I bet it is! All the teachers like him because he’s some - some precious famous wizard! He isn’t even good!”

She fumed all the way to Potions, but it was as they settled into their seats that her anger died down and she thought on the situation, feeling a little guilty. Wasn’t it Aurora’s father’s fault that Potter had that scar in the first place? She wasn’t really sure she had the right to be mad about it. But that didn’t stop her from being furious about the broomstick situation. Snape did nothing to improve her mood, breathing down her neck as she had another go at the Cure for Boils with the rest of the class. He seemed determined to make her mess up, talking to her just before she was meant to add the Porcupine Quills off the heat - she only just remembered, she was so flustered from his interrogation on the properties of fluxweed.

“If I didn’t know better,” Draco said as they left, “I’d say Snape was trying to put you off.”

“You don’t know better,” Aurora told him, looking over her shoulder. “I think that’s exactly what he’s trying to do. I just don’t know why.”

The next Friday was her birthday, and she was determined that nothing could spoil it. Aurora woke bright and early the same time as Gwendolyn, and looked around to see if she’d gotten any presents from Aunt Lucretia. There was nothing in the room, but she decided that was alright. They’d probably send something along with the owls at breakfast.

Aurora bounded out of bed and hurried to get ready, making sure her hair was perfect. Gwendolyn watched her curiously as she combed it gently. She turned around, grinning. “You’re in a good mood for a Friday,” Gwendolyn said.

“It’s my birthday,” Aurora explained, still beaming. Gwendolyn blinked in surprise.

“It is? You never said.”

“You never talk to me.”

Gwendolyn just stared. Aurora smirked, packing up her bag for the day. She ran her hands over Stella’s fur, eliciting a gentle purr. “Happy birthday anyways,” Gwendolyn told her quietly, and Aurora looked at her, pleasantly surprised that she’d bothered to say so. It was polite.

“Thanks,” she said, grinning as she went to the common room to wait on Pansy and Draco.

Draco had already arrived with Blaise, and hugged Aurora tightly. “Happy birthday,” he said, grinning. “I got you something, but I didn’t know what to get, so I hope it’s alright.” Aurora smiled excitedly as he brought out from the seat he was standing in front of a large wicker basket filled with all of Aurora’s favourite sweets and treats.

“Oh, Draco!” she cried, beaming. “Thank you!”

“Pansy pitch in too,” he said, “so you had better give her a great thank you, too.”

Indeed, when Pansy eventually arrived, Aurora rushed over to her with a ridiculously giddy grin and pulled her into a hug. Pansy stiffened in her arms. “I suppose Draco gave you our gift then?”

“He did,” Aurora laughed, and released Pansy, who smiled reluctantly.

“You’re ridiculously affectionate, Aurora.”

“I’m cheerful,” she replied with an even bigger grin, and got Pansy and Millicent to help her hide the basket in her room. “We can have it all tonight,” she said, “a little party? And I suppose we could invite the others too - Daphne, Blaise, Theodore and Lucille?”

Millicent nodded. “And Vincent and Gregory.”

“Ew, no,” Pansy said, wrinkling her nose. “They’ll eat it all and leave none for the rest of us, or Aurora. No, leave the two of them out of it.” She turned on Aurora. “Do you think you can get Tearston out of the way?”

“It won’t be hard,” she said with a laugh. “She hates my company. I wouldn’t be surprised if she went to stay the night with Davis and Drought anyway.”

“She does that often?” Millicent asked, surprised.

“Seems to,” Aurora said as they came back into the common room, where Draco, Blaise, Daphne, Lucille and Theodore were all gathered.

“We have a plan for tonight,” Pansy told them importantly. “Midnight, in Aurora’s room, we’re going to have something of a feast.”

“Yes,” Aurora said. “I’ll let you all know when I can get Tearston out of the way.”

“Excellent,” said Daphne. “I can’t wait to tuck in.”

At breakfast she saw a delivery from Aunt Lucretia’s and Uncle Ignatius’ twin large tawny owls. They clutched between them a large box wrapped in brown paper, which Aurora was quick to unwrap, Draco and Pansy peering eagerly over her shoulders. Inside were two smaller boxes and what was most definitely a book. Aurora unwrapped that first, read the title about Magic in the Roman Republic and set it aside interestedly for reading later. Of the other two boxes, one contained a large shipment of chocolate frogs, and the other a very pretty silver bracelet with small emeralds inlaid in it. The note with it read, We thought this would be suitable for your place in Slytherin house. All of our love, Aunt Lucretia and Uncle Ignatius.

“That bracelet’s beautiful,” Pansy said, and Draco helped Aurora attach it to her wrist, admiring the way it caught the light when she moved it. “I’m awfully jealous.”

“You have lots of jewellery,” Aurora told Pansy, still smiling. She placed the book and the chocolate frogs back in the box and they left breakfast early so that Aurora could put them in her room in the dungeons before they all hurried along the corridor to Professor Snape’s classroom.

She’d noticed at breakfast that he had not seemed amused by the owl delivery she’d received, and the Potions class confirmed, if she hadn’t already been certain, that Snape detested her.

They were working on Wiggenweld Potions for the first time. It was considerably trickier than the Cure for Boils, but Aurora had brewed it before for Arcturus. She felt tears stinging her eyes when she thought of him. This was the first birthday in years for which he could not be present. Though she loved her gifts from her aunt and uncle, she couldn’t help herself from longing to have gotten something from Arcturus. For him to have still been alive.

She tried to numb the pang in her chest by focusing on the task at hand. The portions of salamander blood to add weren’t based on exact measurements but rather on the basis of the colour they turned the potion, which made it rather more nerve-wracking. She kept adding it in very slow, small increments, worried she’d add too much.

“Not feeling quite so cocky now, are we, Black?” Snape whispered in her ear.

She tried to keep her voice even. “It’s a little trickier, but I’m doing my best.”

“You think you’re the best student in this class,” he hissed. Aurora did, actually, but that was because she was, and she was sure Snape had to know that somewhere. “I know you’re not. You’re a vain little girl who likes to show off her magic and her finery and her name.” Her heart sped up and she kept her eyes fixed on her potion, watching as it turned from green to turquoise.

“I’m trying to concentrate, sir,” she told him in a strained voice. Draco looked at her sideways.

“Do not talk back to me, Black,” he told her, voice dangerously soft. She resisted the rush to turn around and throw her potion in his face. “It will not end well for you.”

“I’m just trying to do my work,” she said, and her hand trembled as she added more salamander blood, stirring until it turned a pretty, deep indigo shade.

“You will address me as sir, or professor.”

Fury blazed in her chest. He was talking down to her like she was nothing, nothing but a stupid child. She hated it. “My apologies,” she ground out, “sir.”

He watched her closely as she continued her potion, and Aurora managed a shaky smile when it went the desired shade of pink and then red that meant the salamander’s blood had been adequately mixed in. She added five lionfish spines, heating the potion until it went a yellow the colour of buttercups, and then the other five lionfish spines and a portion of flobberworm mucus. The potion slowly changed colour, into a striking violet, and Aurora started to stir it again.

Draco was looking stressed next to her, his potion stuck on turquoise, and she noticed Crabbe’s potion was a sludgy green colour it should not have been at any stage, but Snape said nothing about either of their work. “And what are you doing now, Black?”

“Stirring,” she replied shortly. “Like the recipe says. Sir.”

His eyes glittered, but he didn’t seem able to find anything to fault her on right now, for which she was immensely grateful. When her potion turned red again, she added more flobberworm mucus and stirred until it turned the same buttercup shade from before. She could feel Snape’s eyes on her.

“That’s an awfully interesting bracelet you’re wearing, Black.”

She tensed. “It was a birthday present, sir.”

He sneered. “How touching.” She ignored him, adding two vials of honey water until her potion turned turquoise again. Draco looked over furiously, stirring frantically, which somehow managed to comfort Aurora. She added a few drops of boom berry juice, stirred the potion again and then adjusted the heat to bring it to a simmer.

She leaned back, smiling proudly at her potion. It looked exactly like the picture in her textbook. “Why are you lazing about, Black?”

“My potion has to simmer for another thirty minutes,” she told him. “I’ve reached the last stage.” His mouth was thin. “If there is any additional, advanced work you would like me to do, sir, please tell me.”

His eyes flashed. “You really are remarkably like your father,” he said, loud enough for the whole class to hear, and Aurora felt the colour drain from her face. “He was just as arrogant.”

Snape flicked his wand over her cauldron and it vanished. “Seeing as you’re so cocky, I’m sure you can re-do this potion.”

She stared up at him in disbelief, shaking. “I don’t have time,” she said in a tight voice. Everyone in the class was staring at them. Draco had stopped stirring his potion, not realising it had turned puce. Even Potter and Weasley were looking at her. “Sir, we only have forty minutes left.”

“Well,” Professor Snape purred, “then you had better get a move on, Black. Or you might have to miss your birthday lunch.”

She was shaking as she continued on her potion, Snape breathing down her neck. It made it very difficult to concentrate, when she was so angry she could hardly think straight, and the potion eventually turned dark grey. When she added the next bout of salamander blood, it blew up in her face and she threw her wand down in frustration, breathing heavily and angrily.

“Perhaps you’ll do better next time, Black,” Snape sneered, as her cheeks stung from the minor explosion. She coughed and spluttered. “Go to the Hospital Wing.”

She didn’t think twice. She grabbed her books and wand and shoved them hastily in her bag, almost sprinting from the room, heart pounding heavily. There felt like there might be a small burn on her cheek, and she could have taken care of it with cold water, but she didn’t want to be in that room a moment longer. It was so embarrassing! And infuriating; as knew she’d done well and her potion had been near to perfect. So why was Snape trying to embarrass her?

She stormed up the stairs to the Hospital Wing, where Madam Pomfrey took one look at her and sighed. “Don’t tell me you’ve been setting off a fireworks display, Black.”

She gaped at her. “No?”

“Blowing up toilets?”

“No.” She blinked in surprise. “I had an - an accident in my Potions class.”

“Hmph. Well, you’re certainly worse for wear. Over here, clean yourself up and I’ll see if there’s any burns.”

Face blazing which had nothing to do with the Potions explosion, she hurried to a sink and splashed water on her face, rubbing the door away gently. Her hair was going to stink of smoke after this, she just knew it, and she’d have to sit through both afternoon classes. Once she was done, Madam Pomfrey checked over her burn, applied a cool, thick paste and kept her five minutes until it had cooled. “There you are,” Pomfrey said. “An easy fix. Be careful now, Black.”

“I will,” she muttered, picking up her bag. The bell rang for the end of class and she headed back down to the dungeons in the hopes of catching Draco or Pansy on their way out of the classroom.

Instead, she ran into Potter and Weasley, who regarded her coolly. “What?” she snapped at them. “Come to have a laugh at me, have you?” She scoffed. “Go to lunch!”

Both boys’ eyes went wide. They exchanged a shocked glance and hurried away, and Aurora made a loud cry of frustration, turning on her heel and storming into the Slytherin common room towards her bedroom. She flung the door open, much to Gwendolyn’s surprise, as she was already in there. Her eyes went wide and worried. She made to run right past Aurora, who moved furiously to block the door. Gwendolyn stared at her, face white, seemingly at a loss for what to do. Aurora trembled with renewed anger.

“Why do you always act like that?” she spat out, and Gwendolyn blinked.

“Like - like what?”

“Like I’m going to murder you. It’s pathetic. You scurry around likes a terrified little mouse, and why? What have I done?”

“N-n-nothing, Aurora. I’m - I’m sorry.”

“No you’re not. I know you talk about my behind my back, you and Davis and Drought and all the others. Well, I don’t care! I don’t care what you think of me because my father.” She sneered at her, chest furious. “But don’t look at me like you do, alright? I’m not in the mood. And - and don’t come to sleep here tonight, I have plans!”

Gwendolyn looked utterly terrified by the prospect of Aurora having ‘plans’. She nodded frantically. “I know, I know, Aurora, I’m - I’m really sorry. Can - can I - g-go.”

Aurora nodded stiffly and swept inside, leaving Gwendolyn to walk the other way and fled down the corridor, presumably to Davis and Drought. Aurora chuckled her bag down on her bed, startling Stella out of her nap, and then she lay down too, staring furiously at the ceiling. Don’t cry, she told herself. Stop getting yourself so worked up. She tried controlling her breathing. What did Snape get out of being such a git? He wasn’t even so horrible to Potter, and he was a Gryffindor. If anyone was arrogant, it was him, not her!

Stupid Potter. Stupid Snape. Stupid all of this. She clutched her wand so tightly and furiously that red sparks started to fly out of the end. Her stomach rumbled. She had to go and get lunch, she decided, though fury still swelled in her throat. She was certain she would hit something out of pure anger, but she made herself get up, replace her Potions things with her Defense and Transfiguration books, and sweep back upstairs and into the Great Hall.

There was a space between Draco and Pansy, who both looked up curiously at her when she entered. “What did you do?” Pansy asked, enthralled. “Tearston looked scared out of her wits when she came in here just now.”

She gestured down the table to where Tearston was whispering frantically to Robin Oliphant.

“She was getting on my nerves,” Aurora said uncomfortably. “So I told her to stop. It’s not my fault she’s such a scaredy-cat.” She knew she shouldn’t have yelled like she did, but Gwendolyn was constantly getting on her nerves, acting like she was terrifying - maybe it had been only a matter of time before Aurora proved that for herself.

She ate her lunch pointedly so as to avoid any other questions, and her usual diligence in class meant Draco didn’t see the point in questioning her for the rest of the day. She was alone in the room in the evening, which suited her perfectly. By dinner, Aurora was quite cheerful, and she and the others all discussed their excitement before they headed back to bed. Gwendolyn still hadn’t shown up, so Aurora assumed she was hiding out with one of the other girls for the time being. She didn’t care. She was better off without her staring at her like she expected Aurora was about to curse her within an inch of her life.

She read her new book before sleeping, and set an alarm for half past eleven. Even so it was difficult to drift into sleep, She was so excited, and when her alarm rung she had hardly dropped off. But she was grinning as she set up the food for the party, and shuffled the pillows around on her bed so people could sit on them. At midnight, Pansy and Millicent promptly burst through her door, beaming.

“I knew we’d be the first here!” Pansy cheered, though Daphne and Lucille appeared a moment later, both smirking.

“Good spread,” Lucille said approvingly, and Aurora flushed, looking at Pansy.

“Well, thanks go to Pansy and Draco. And my Aunt Lucretia - she sent the chocolate frogs.”

“Three cheers for Aunt Lucretia, I say,” Millicent cheered, eyeing up the chocolate frogs excitedly.

“Don’t tuck in yet, Millie,” Pansy scolded. “Wait for the boys.”

They didn’t have to wait long. Draco, Blaise and Theodore appeared five minutes later, looking eager to tuck in, and they did. It felt nice, Aurora thought, to be surrounded with her friends - and these people were here friends, she decided - and having something such as normally exciting as a midnight feast.

“I still think it’s ridiculous that Potter gets to have a broom,” Draco said. He still hadn’t gotten over it.

“I quite agree,” Theodore added. “It’s unfair to the rest of us. They can’t give him special treatment. If it were me, I’d complain.”

“It is you,” Daphne pointed out. “You’re affected too, Theodore.”

“Not really. I don’t like flying.”

“Well, you and pretend to.” Daphne tilted her chin. “I think we should start a petition, or stage a protest. I’ve read about those. They used them in goblin rebellions.”

“We’re not goblins, Daphne,” Lucille said, laughing.

“Draco is,” Aurora said, and everybody laughed.

“I am not! What’s that supposed to mean, Aurora?”

She winked at Draco, which just seemed to infuriate him further, but her cheeks flushed with pleasure as everyone laughed at her joke. It suddenly didn’t matter what had happened earlier that day. She had people who liked to be around her, and no one else mattered, not really. “Don’t worry, Draco,” she teased, “you’re still my favourite. Even if you’re basically a baby to me now.”

“Oi!”

“You’re almost a year younger.”

“I’m taller!”

“No you’re not.”

Draco shot to his feet, staring at her indignantly, and Aurora laughed as she rose too. “Back to back,” Theodore instructed and they moved, Aurora holding herself up as high as she possibly could. “No, Draco is taller.”

“He is not!” Aurora protested. “Absolutely not! You need to get glasses, Nott.”

Everybody laughed as Aurora sat down, blushing but not unhappy. No one was laughing at her, they were laughing with her, and it was nice. When they all finally dispersed in the early hours of the morning, Aurora was quite content, and despite all the sugar she’d consumed, she got to sleep easily and slept soundly.


	11. Halloween

On Halloween morning, Aurora awoke bright and early, still riding the high from the day before when she had been the first in the Charms class to levitate her feather - Flitwick had given her five points to Slytherin. Gwendolyn wasn’t in when she woke, but that was hardly a surprise. She rarely was. Aurora didn’t know where she went, considering she hadn’t seen her with Davis and Drought much recently, but it wasn’t her business.

While Aurora got ready for her classes, she could smell pumpkin wafting through the school even through to the dungeons, a pleasant smell that reminded her of Halloweens long passed at Arcturus’ house. She allowed herself to miss it for a moment before she packed her books into her bag - she had Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, History of Magic and Herbology today - and went to knock on Pansy and Millicent’s door.

Pansy opened it, grinning. She had an orange band around the brim of her hat today, in celebration. “Happy Halloween!”

“Happy Halloween,” Aurora recited back to her.

They went to breakfast together, remarking on the orange pumpkin decorations and the bats that flew over the roof. “I do love that ceiling sometimes,” Millicent said, and Pansy looked at her.

“You’re weird, Millie.”

When they arrived in the common room they were greeted by Draco, who was looking very smug about something. “The initiation programme’s been put up,” he said. “We’re to return to the common room tonight at midnight after the feast, with our wands. To be prepared to do whatever the older years tell us to.”

Aurora grinned. Slytherin initiation was a longstanding tradition, always taking place on Halloween night. The first years had to prove themselves before they could be formally accepted as one of the house, and though Aurora had never heard of anyone being kicked out, she did not want to take any risks. No one was to tell anyone what happened in previous initiations, but Aurora knew she ought to be prepared for anything, and spent most of the day thinking about it.

Their classes were a bit more laid back that day, though McGonagall didn’t seem too concerned by the class’s frivolity, and Professor Binns likely didn’t know what day it was. Professor Quirrel’s class had been a bit of a free for all, as he seemed incredibly twitchy and nervous about something, even more than usual. “Maybe he thinks a vampire’s going to attack him,” Daphne said. “I couldn’t blame it. It is Halloween after all.”

“What do you mean you couldn’t blame it?”

“Well, he’s not a very good teacher.”

“And how is a vampire meant to know that?”

“You never know,” Pansy said, “they’re everywhere.”

Draco went pale and turned to his textbook, reading it furiously. Aurora laughed. “Who’s a scaredy cat now?”

“Shut up, Aurora.”

Aurora had been looking forward to the Halloween Feast ever since she got to Hogwarts. She even straightened her hair specially with a spell Daphne had taught her, and near bounded into the Great Hall to celebrate with her friends.

They all tucked in merrily, chatting excitedly, and then halfway through Professor Quirrel ran down the middle of the hall, exclaimed that there was a troll in the dungeon, and promptly sent everyone into chaos.

“Prefects,” Dumbledore called over the din, “please lead your houses back to their common rooms.”

“Is he out of his mind?” Pansy shouted. “Our common room’s in the dungeons!”

“Bloody Dumbledore,” Draco muttered under his breath. “I’m not going anywhere near a troll. Where are Crabbe and Goyle?”

The Slytherins were having a bit of a free for all. They weren’t the only ones who had realised they would be heading straight for the troll if they went to the dungeons, and their housemates scattered in all different directions.

“Hang on,” Aurora said, grasping Pansy’s hand tightly as she spied two boys slipping away from the Gryffindor crowd. “What’s Potter doing?”

“Who cares about Potter?” Pansy cried. “I’m going to hide! Come on!”

“What are they up to?”

“Who cares?” Pansy cried again, and yanked her hand away from Aurora, who wasn’t moving.

“I want to see what they’re up to.”

“You’re as bad as Draco!”

Aurora shook her head at Pansy, and surged forwards with the Gryffindor crowd, slipping along by the walls and ducking behind suits of armour as she followed Potter and Weasley. There were footsteps behind her suddenly and she ducked behind a statue, catching the two boys doing the same just as Professor Snape came around the corner, hurrying along the corridor. She narrowed her eyes at him. What was he doing here? He ought to be down in the dungeons with the other professors, especially since that was his house territory.

“He’s headed to the third floor corridor!” she heard Weasley say, and frowned. That corridor was out bounds, but she supposed it mustn’t be to staff. Still, why was he headed there?

She shook the thought from her head as she crept along slyly behind Potter and Weasley, until she was overcome with the most disgusting stench she had ever smelled. She knew at once, without even seeing the thing, that this must be the troll.

It leered into view suddenly, a grotesque, yellowed creature. Weasley was looking very white, and Aurora pressed herself against a wall as she watched it lumber into another room. She breathed out, eyes returning to Potter and Weasley, who were hurrying to lock the door. Good, she thought. Though it didn’t explain what they thought they were doing going after the thing.

Gryffindor show offs, she thought to herself, as she hurried downstairs to the dungeons before either of them could catch a glimpse of her. Then she heard a girl scream.

Don’t get involved, she told herself, but thought that if it was Pansy, she would have gone after her in a heartbeat.

With a great sigh, she turned and made to run around the corner, barrelling straight into Harry Potter. “What are you doing?” he said sharply to her.

“I could ask you the same!”

Potter glared at her. “Shouldn’t you be in your common room with your Slytherin friends?”

She scoffed, looking down her nose at him. “The Slytherin Common Room is in the dungeons, idiot. Of course I’m not there. That was where I was headed now.” She narrowed her eyes, glancing between the two boys. “What’s your excuse?”

They shared a look and said at the same time, “We’re not telling you.”

Potter turned around and went running off towards the room they’d just locked the troll in, Weasley quick after him. Aurora debated going with them for a moment - just a moment, barely a moment, maybe just a few seconds - but decided against it. They had it handled after all, and she wasn’t going to go with them when they clearly didn’t respect her. She retained her suspicions though, as she hurried back to the dungeons. They had no way of knowing someone would be locked in with a troll - so what exactly were they up to? Probably trying to wrestle it themselves, she thought, rolling her eyes scornfully. At least it wasn’t her.

“Where have you been?” Draco demanded when she got in. Plates of food had been sent up for them to continue the feast, and so Draco and Pansy hauled her over to a table with Blaise and Daphne. “Pansy said you were spying on Potter and Weasley!”

“I was,” she said. “They went after the troll.”

Pansy laughed in disbelief. “They what? Really? Are you serious, Aurora?”

She nodded. “Completely.”

“Well,” Draco said, “I hope it breaks their necks.”

She rolled her eyes in response. “I wouldn’t go quite that far. But the sentiment’s the same; it’ll teach them a lesson not to be so arrogant.”

She didn’t tell them about Snape. That was something that, though she couldn’t quite explain why, she didn’t want to reveal just yet. She was soon distracted anyway; once the prefects decided the first years were suitably well fed they were all sent to their rooms to await the call for initiation, while the upper years discussed the task.

Gwendolyn seemed very nervous, and Aurora wished she could have been with Pansy and Millicent instead, as they were probably having a productive conversation, but rules stated they were not to leave their rooms until midnight. She got only a little bit of sleep before the call woke her: the haunting hissing of a snake that ran through the walls.

Aurora got changed very quickly, pulling her hair up and grabbing her wand. She only stopped to haul Gwendolyn out of her bed, hurrying down the corridor alone.

“Good show, Black,” said Lucas Yaxley - a sixth year Prefect - when she arrived in the common room. “You’re the first girl here. Gemma, note that down.”

Aurora noticed a chalkboard had been set up near the fireplace, with the names of all her yearmates written down. There was a white tally mark beside Robin Oliphant’s name, and Aurora imagined he had been the first boy to get there, as a similar mark went by her own name. She took a tentative seat by Theodore Nott, who nodded briskly at her, looking a bit peaky.

“Do you have any idea what we’re to do?” he whispered.

Aurora shook her head. “It’s meant to be kept quiet, isn’t it?”

It took a few minutes for the rest of her year to arrive, all twenty of them seated on the sofas before the fireplace. Room was scarce by the time the last girls - Sally-Anne Perks and Leah MacMillan - arrived, so they had to perch on the back of the sofa, and both received red tally marks by their names, as did Lewis Stebbins, who had been the last boy to arrive. Gwen whispered frantically to Robin Oliphant, who was growing increasingly pale.

“Right,” said Ursula Flint, the seventh year prefect, when everyone had gotten seated. “Little firsties. You all know by now what it means to be a Slytherin. We are cunning, ambitious, and resourceful. We are also loyal to one another, at least in the face of others. I do not care of any petty squabbles between you all. You have had two months to get to know each other and now you are a family. You may argue amongst yourselves but you must present a united front to the rest of the school. Understand?” They all nodded quickly.

“Tonight marks an ancient tradition. All over the world, witches and wizards are celebrating the most important day in our character, when the magical forces in the world are at their strongest, and the barrier between natural and supernatural, life and death, are blurred. For centuries, Slytherin House has initiated its students on this night with a series of trials determined to test their ambition, cunning, and resourcefulness.

“I am not saying this will be easy. I would rather you struggled to complete your tasks. And make no mistake, you will complete them, using any means necessary that do not venture into the unforgivable. If you are to break the rules, I ask only that you do not allow yourselves to be caught. Professor Snape understands our tradition, but that does not mean that he will be lenient with anyone caught out of curfew.

“Similarly, the knowledge of this tradition is to be kept strictly within the people in this room. You may never tell anyone what happens on this night. This tradition stretches back to Merlin himself.” Aurora did not want to disappoint Merlin. “I would also like to remind you all, in the interests of easing health and safety concerns, that the troll that was in the castle earlier has since been dealt with and poses no threat. Please do not complain to me that you are scared, because, frankly, that is no excuse. Many have been scared before you - at the risk of sounding like a Gryffindor-“ a few people laughed “-at least try not to be dreadful cowards.

“Finally, I would like to set out the agenda for this evening. You will complete three tasks between my say so and three o’clock in the morning.” A few people’s eyes widened: they were going to have to stay up until three in the morning? “You must return before three o’clock. After that, provided none of you fail, we shall have a party throughout the night. Please note there will be alcohol, but that is for fifth years and up, not any first years. Any attempt to drink anything stronger than Butterbeer will see you disqualified from Quidditch trials for the rest of your school careers.

“We - that is, the seventh years, and the sixth and fifth year prefects - will be evaluating your completion of your tasks and ranking you accordingly. Each of you has a place on this board. White tallies are positive scores, red are negative. Those to arrive promptly tonight already have white tallies - those who arrived later have gained red ones, as you can see.”

Sally-Anne whispered something nervously to Leah, who nodded. “Your tasks are as such. First, retrieve a book from the Restricted Section. Second, create something connected to the legacy of a notable member of Slytherin House. And take a snake out of the Black Lake.” Flint smirked at their astonished faces. It felt almost too easy, Aurora thought. She’d thought something a lot more intense and ritualistic would happen. “You must bring your three objects back here at three o’clock, when we will complete your initiation. Further information will be given at the time. Do you all have your wands?” They all nodded. “Good. Now, begin. And remember, anything goes - but be careful. Not everything can be trusted.”

No one quite knew what to do initiall. They all exchanged glances, and then Pansy stood up, slowly making her way to the door. The rest followed, splintering into small clusters when they left the common room - Draco with Crabbe and Goyle; Pansy with Daphne, Lucille and Millicent; Blaise, Theodore and Stebbins together; Gwendolyn with Robin Oliphant; Davis and Drought; Leah MacMillan, Sally-Anne Perks, and Apollo Jones. Pansy called Aurora over to join the other girls, but she shook her head. While working together might accomplish the first and third tasks, the second was something that she wanted to do herself.

Creeping her way silently to the library, Aurora ran over a list of the most famous Slytherin alumni. Slytherin himself, of course, then Merlin and Morgana. They would be obvious choices, everyone would do something related to them. She wanted someone no one else would think of.

There was Leta Lestrange, who had played a role in the downfall of Grindelwald - though few liked to admit it. The Bloody Baron was another alumni no one would think of, because he was completely terrifying. She contemplated Snape, but thought that was a little too close to home, and her idea to create a de-greasing hair potion might not go down too well. Perhaps, then, Gwenog Jones, the Seeker of the Holyhead Harpies? They were Aurora’s favourite team, and Jones had taken the Harpies on to great victories. She was known for her brilliant violet robes, but also for her brilliance in catching the Snitch. But what of her legacy, with relation the the house? Well, she’d won them four successive Quidditch Cups, but had also been known for her skill in the school’s old Duelling Club.

She decided upon Jones, but left the thought aside for now. The first task would be to get a book, but everyone would be going to the Restricted Section at the same time, and she had no idea how she was meant to get in. The snake it was.

She used the passage at the far side of the dungeon which most people didn’t know about, but which led to near the edge of the lake. The night was very cold, and she wished her dressing gown was warmer, but there was nothing she could do about it now.

Aurora crouched by the end of the lake, looking out into the darkness and letting her eyes adjust. She cast a dim lumos spell. How was she going to get a snake out of the lake? She didn’t even know there were snakes in the lake. They had to be in the shallow parts, surely, which was why she had never seen any from the window in the common room.

She pointed her wand closer to the reeds, keeping her eyes peeled for any sound of movement. An owl hooted loudly nearby and Aurora jumped, heart pounding. She’d never admit she was scared out here, but she was beginning to consider if going with the girls would have been a better idea. She fancied her chances with five of them much better.

Still there was nothing she could do about it now. Aurora peered into the lake, making her wandlight as bright as she could, and then - there. Something snakelike moving. It was near her, and it wasn’t going away, but she didn’t know how to capture it. Was it venomous? Would it bite her anyway? Would it squeeze her until it crushed all the bones in her body? That was a horrid thought.

How to call the snake though? She put her teeth together and made a very bad, very horrible hissing noise. The snake wriggled away, and she felt rather foolish. It probably wasn’t even a snake. More likely an eel. Did they even have snakes in Scotland? She knew Saint Patrick had gotten rid of them in Ireland, had someone else done the same in Scotland? Surely they did have snakes, otherwise they wouldn’t be given this task. Except hadn’t Flint said that not everything was at it seemed? Aurora thought over her wording very carefully.

She only had to take a snake out of the lake. It didn’t necessarily have to have been from the lake in the first place. And luckily for her, she knew a spell to summon a snake.

“Serpensortia,” Aurora whispered, imagining very clearly a flat, non-venomous, non-dangerous snake, and though her wandlight disappeared, she could see the faint shape of a snake fly from the top of her wand. It splashed down into the lake and Aurora grabbed it. The snake wriggled a little, then met her eyes and bobbed its head. It appreciated its maker.

“Stay with me,” Aurora whispered, though she didn’t think the snake could understand. The snake wound around her wrist but didn’t make any attempt to crush her, which was a good sign. Beaming, Aurora hurried back towards the castle, looking at the clock tower. It was almost one o’clock now. She had best get to the library quickly and then get to work on task number two.

Any book from the Restricted Section would do, but one that would help her with her creation would be much better, and she thought the upper years would appreciate that thought. She had to decide quickly on what to create, she thought, hurrying back into the dungeons. Gwenog Jones. What could she do to do with Gwenog Jones?

Then she had to stifle a gasp. How had she forgotten? Agrippa. Heinrich Cornelius Agrippa solidified the concept of Pythagorean Arithmancy and was the first to apply it to the Latin alphabet in the sixteenth century. He was a Slytherin, too.

An idea started to form in her head. Pythagorean Arithmancy allowed for the study of one’s strengths and weaknesses through the study of their heart, life and character numbers. In an Agrippan triangle, the heart would be a top point with life and character either side, but she wanted to go a step further. An Agrippan pyramid, with three descending sides, was to feature a hole in the upward point through which a part of the witch or wizard would be inserted into the hollow shape. Generally, hair was used, but the end product was meant to give the user temporary protection. Hers would be weak, she knew that, for while she had read a lot of Arithmancy she was yet to properly study it, but the attempt and the ambition she thought would be appreciated.

So her book would be about Agrippan pyramids. She had to get into the Restricted Section first.

When she arrived at the library, the door was already unlocked and ajar, and she could hear quiet voices from inside. “You do it,” Draco was hissing at Crabbe and Goyle.

“Why us?”

“Because I’m telling you to.”

“What if we get caught?”

“Then I’ll run for it.”

Aurora rolled her eyes and popped her head out from behind a shelf. “Is it unlocked?”

Draco jumped, turning around. “There you are! How’d you get a snake already?”

“I went there first. Seems I was the only one.”

“But how?”

She smirked. “That’s between me and Mr Slytherin. If you’ll excuse me.”

She made to step forward into the Restricted Section, then stopped. “If it’s unlocked, why haven’t you gone in already.”

Draco looked nervous. “There’s a jinx on it. Lucille got her legs locked, and Millicent came out in boils. Then Blaise tried, and it set off a Caterwhauling Charm and we all had to make a run for it.”

“Hmm.” Aurora bent down by the edge of the Restricted Section. Sure enough, there was a faint and shimmering blue ring around it. “So has no one gotten a book yet?”

“Lucille, Daphne Millicent and Pansy all did. Pansy and Daphne got the other two to get their books, but if the Caterwhauling Charm goes off again...”

Aurora nodded. “So it can detect us?” She narrowed her eyes, stroking the scales of the snake on her arm. “I wonder about a snake.”

Draco’s eyes widened. “No! But they told us to go here first!”

“Flint didn’t specify when we completed each task,” Aurora reminded him. She turned to the snake. It was effectively a golem and an extension of her magic, which meant she did have some element of control over it, as shown by the fact it had come quite happily to wrap around her arm. “Snake,” she whispered. It lifted its head and hissed. It didn’t sound too menacing, at least. “Find me a book on Agrippan Pyramids.” The snake blinked at her lazily. She glared. “Now.”

With a hiss, the snake unravelled itself from around her arm and slid onto the floor, gliding right through the ring of enchantments quite unharmed. No jinxes seemed to have been set off by it, and after a few very nerve-wracking minutes, the snake returned with a book on Agrippan Pyramids snatched in its jaws. Aurora picked the book out and tapped the snake happily on the head. “Thank you very much.”

“Can he get ours?”

Aurora smirked at Draco. “Get your own snake, Draco. I’m going to complete my final task.”

She felt quite a rush walking out of there, having just gotten one over on Draco, who was still staring after her. She was so happy that she almost missed the cloaked figure coming around the corner.

There was a strange shadow around it, one that didn’t seem quite natural. It was like its shadow didn’t seem to want to follow its owner. Aurora pressed against the wall, and her snake hissed. The cloaked figure froze, and Aurora held her breath. Then there was a hissing noise back. She could have leapt out of her skin. It was like the snake and the cloaked figure were having a conversation, and for a long few minutes, Aurora stood completely still, hardly daring to breathe until the cloaked figure moved off.

She ran as quietly as she could back to the common room. The clock on the mantel read half past one, which left her time to make a half decent pyramid. Grinning, she waved to the upper years who asked how she was doing. “Good show, Black,” said Farley. “Get on with the last one.”

With a grin, she hurried back to her room where she emptied her trunk of everything Arithmancy related, and started to calculate her three numbers. The first heart number, which identified magical strength, was calculated by adding the numbers of the vowels in her full name. The letter ‘a’ represented one, so she put all those together to make three. ‘U’ and ‘O’ represented three and six respectively, making nine and then twelve. She added those together to create three, and scribbled it down.

When it came to her life number - which calculated physical strength - she put together the number values of her consonants. Two ‘r’s, each representing nine, made eighteen. ‘B’ and ‘l’ made five out together, and ‘c’ and ‘k’ added to create the same sum. Adding ten and eighteen made twenty eight, and two and eight were ten, which reduced to one.

The combination of consonant and vowel values made the character number, which represented the strength of her soul. That was a four. She wrote the three number on a piece of parchment, evenly spaced out and at perfect angles measured with her protractor. She knew it would come in handy.

She read the textbook as quickly and thoroughly as she could. It said that the bottom pane of the pyramid should be made of glass and left blank but reflective. Then each of the three remaining sides should be etched with their respective runes for heart, character or life, and the representations of magic, soul, and physicality. In the middle of those Runes would be the arabic number, with the runic symbol for those numbers above and below them.

Aurora was incredibly grateful to the book for providing the necessary runes. She etched them carefully with the cutting charm, and then moved to the page on Agrippa’s spell. She had still to imbue the Runes with divinationary power, as well as two protective enchantments - one to protect the pyramid itself and the other to extend that protection to the witch or wizard themself.

The wand movements for the spells took a while to learn, by which point it was half past two and she was running out of time. She placed the enchantments around each side as carefully as possible, and then when she was satisfied, she cut off three individual strands of hair, took the tip of the pyramid off, and carefully guided the hairs into the pyramid. Twenty-five to three. She considered the piece of parchment next to her. She still had time, and she knew just from touching the pyramid that it was not complete yet.

Twenty three minutes now. She bit her lip. Others would be returning already, no doubt, but she still had time. Practice made perfect. One more try might just make it better, and she could show them both as her processes.

She moved the first pyramid aside and started on the new one, cutting and engraving the glass carefully. She assembled it the same way, delicately, with the thinnest layer of spellotape and a little of her own magic just to make it hold stronger. Ten minutes.

She murmured the enchantment spells, putting power into every word. She could see the reflection of magic in the glass, pale blue and lilac lights that glimmered against the dim golden lamplights. Three minutes. Aurora took off the tip of the pyramid, cut off three hairs, and placed them carefully not just in the glass pyramid, but so that they clung to the inside edges. A minute and a half. She sealed the final bonding enchantment, picked up the two pyramids, wound the snake around her forearm, grabbed her book, and hurried along the corridor to the common room as fast as she could.

She arrived with approximately ten seconds remaining. The common room cheered. “Eighteen back!” called a fifth year. “Come on, Black, let’s see what you’ve got for us.”

There was a table assembled with twenty silver trays, in front of which were small name cards. Seventeen of the others were filled with a collection of books, strange contraptions, and vaguely snake like things. One was definitely a charmed bit of rope. Gwendolyn appeared to have twisted bits of fish net into a fake snake, which Aurora admitted was rather clever.

She set the two pyramids, the book, and her conjured snake down behind her name card. “Stay,” she told the snake, who hissed in reply.

“Take your place on the sofa,” one of the prefects told her, and Aurora hurried to a place next to Draco. “We’re waiting for Arid and Gornsley to return with your other two peers, who don’t seem to have abided by the time limit.” Glancing around, Aurora saw that neither Sally-Anne Perks or Apollo Jones had returned yet. That did not bode well for them. “Speak amongst yourselves.”

The remaining prefects and seventh years turned to have a very quiet conversation by the fireplace, while the rest of the house chattered loudly, returning to their party. The first years waiting anxiously for the verdict, and for Perks and Jones.

“So you got into the Restricted Section eventually?” Aurora whispered to Draco.

“Well, Goyle did. You might have seen his hair’s gone pink.” Aurora looked over and grinned. It was very bright pink. “We think it might be permanent.”

“I think it suits him,” she said, and Draco snorted.

“You were cutting it very fine.”

“I know. I was done, but I wanted it to be better.”

“I hope it was worth it. I came third, quite respectable. Pansy was first of course, followed by Daphne. Blaise and Theodore came after me, then Lucille and Millicent, and then Crabbe and Goyle.”

Aurora wrung her hands. Now she thought about it, taking all her time might not have been such a good idea. What if they ranked based on who came first, like they did with their arrival? She wasn’t the last to arrive back, but she might still be marked down for it. The upper years seemed to be having a very heated conversation, which upset her nerves even more.

They were only abated when, a few minutes later, Perks and Jones came back into the common room, escorted by two weary looking seventh years, who seemed to want nothing more than to go to bed. A few of the older years jeered, and one sixth year fell of his chair, to much amusement. Perks blushed as they were brought to stand before the fireplace in full view of the rest of their house.

The taller seventh year, Arabella Arid, went to speak to the huddled group of verdicts, while Gornsley remained with Perks and Jones, both of whom looked very nervous as they set down their books, snakes, and two very odd grey things that seemed to have been supposed to be swords. Neither of them spoke, but gossip immediately arose on the sofas. “They’ll be last for sure,” Pansy was whispering. “Those things don’t look special at all, and doesn’t Perks already have a red tally for being late to arrive at the start?”

“I just hope I’m not last,” Aurora said nervously.

“Of course you won’t be,” Millicent assured her. “You arrived first earlier, and you remained on time.”

Aurora nodded, but she still felt very nervous. She knew the initiation was incredibly important not only for its role in tradition but for determining status within the house, as well as gaining the attention of older years and potential mentors, which would then widen access to networking. She wasn’t sure what exactly she wanted to network for, but it was an important opportunity. Plus, she wanted to win, even if it wasn’t an official game. She wanted to be recognised for what she’d done.

It seemed like an age before the seventh years and prefects broke their huddle. The seventh years moved to sit in a semi-circle of chairs to the right of the fireplace, while the prefects stood in front of it, looking rather impressive altogether like that.

“First years,” said Ursula Flint, opening her arms. “Eighteen of you have successfully completed initiation. But there is one unfortunate pair who returned outside of the time limit.” Sally-Anne Perks gulped. “For this they must forfeit. Tomorrow night, Sally-Anne Perks and Apollo Jones will remain awake through dusk, midnight, and dawn to complete the symbolic triad of tasks. Only then will they be officially welcomed into our ranks.” Aurora felt rather sorry for Perks. She already seemed tired, and looked ready to cry at the thought of staying up all night tomorrow night, too.

“Perks, Jones, take your seats behind the sofa.”

Looking miserable, both Perks and Jones trudged to the two rickety, uncomfortable looking chairs behind the sofas which the rest of the first years sat upon. “Now, for a more positive story. Over the past few hours, each of you eighteen have completed three tasks assigned to you. Our seventh year scouts have kept an eye out for your work, and we have been pleasantly surprised by the outcome and the methods. First, we would like to give some honourable mentions, and then each of you will come up here, explain your process, and explain the object you have created.

“First, to Pansy Parkinson, for being the first to arrive back with her tasks completed. You will receive one white tally.” Pansy smiled smugly, casting superior looks. Daphne looked like she was seething. “An honourable mention, also, to Daphne Greengrass, for a close second - however, second is the first to lose. She shall receive no white tallies. For that achievement.

“A mention to Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, and Lewis Stebbins for exercising the value of fraternity and remaining together in crisis while still evading Professor Quirrel.” Flint’s eyes glimmered. “A white tally each.” The boys beamed.

“To Aurora Black, for being the first to take a snake out of the Black Lake and clever use of the serpent summoning charm, as well as cunning analysis of the use of language in our rules. One white tally.

“To Draco Malfoy, for his exercise of leadership in the library. One white tally.

“Gwendolyn Tearston has shown creativity and the use of non-magical means to form a unique answer to our task. One white tally.” Gwendolyn looked like she was glowing. Robin Oliphant beamed and hugged her tightly.

“And finally, to Leah MacMillan, for both cunning and resourcefulness in sneaking fire from this very fireplace, in an attempt - no matter how ill-fated - to recreate Merlin’s hellfire, one white tally.”

They all applauded politely, while the older students called out congratulations to those who had gotten extra tallies. “Yes, well done all, well done all. Now please stand and present your work. First, Aurora Black.”

Aurora stood up, head held high in a determined effort not to let her nerves show. Slytherins were meant to be good speakers. She went to stand behind her tray, and smiled elegantly, taking her snake golem and lifting it.

“My initial thought process,” she began, “was to go to the lake first, as many of my classmates immediately went for the library. There are plenty of books in the Restricted Section, but I thought there may not be so many snakes in the lake. My process, however, was not to find a snake that inhabited the lake, as this proved a very difficult task, especially at night. Given the wording of the rules, I decided to summon a snake instead, let it fall into the lake, and then take it out.” A fourth year laughed appreciatively. Emboldened by this, Aurora went on. “The snake conjured acts as a golem and as such its summoner has a certain control over it. I got the snake to take a book from the Restricted Section for me, as it wouldn’t trigger the trap enchantments laid down earlier. The book I choose was Agrippan Pyramids.” She held it up. “Prior to entering the library I had already chosen what object I would make - an Agrippan Pyramid, to carry the legacy of Agrippa himself, a Slytherin alumni of the sixteenth century.

“I used basic Arithmancy knowledge combined with the specific instructions of the text to create the first of these pyramids. However, this was my first time doing this.” This was the tricky bit, which made her nervous. Justifying why she was so close to being late. “In order to achieve the best results, I decided to create a second pyramid, as I had practiced the engraving and building process already, as well as the enchantment process, and so the second pyramid ought to be of a better and slightly more practiced quality. This process did take me rather close to the deadline of three o’clock, however I still made it on time, and I would prefer that to having a lower quality result.” She nodded to indicate that she was finished, and set the snake and book down so she could hold the two pyramids.

Ursula Flint gave her an appraising look. “You may sit down, Aurora Black. Next, Millicent Bulstrode.”

It seemed to take forever for everyone to get through their explanations, and Aurora could feel her eyes drooping. They still had classes tomorrow, she remembered. That included Potions. It was a horrid thought, but she forced herself to remain awake as Blaise finished his speech about how he had created chains like the ones the Bloody Baron wore, and he sat down to applause.

“Thank you,” said Ursula Flint. “We will make our decision shortly.”

There were a few groans as various first years flopped onto the sofa. Everyone was tired. “I would really love a butterbeer right now,” Lucille complained wistfully.

“There are some on the table.”

“I’m too exhausted to move.”

Pansy laughed. “You’re such a lightweight, Lucille.” She stifled a yawn, blushing, and Daphne and Aurora both laughed. “Oh, do be quiet, won’t you?”

“Attention,” called Ursula, and they all sat up very straight. This was it. “Based on your explanations and overall performance, we have decided that all eighteen of you have passed initiation. We will call your names in order of your ranking, decided upon by our jury. Please note that this ranking is not intended to offend, only to assess. Beginning from the bottom of the ranks, Gregory Goyle.”

Goyle looked rather upset as he got up, feet trailing the ground as he joined Ursula Flint, who gave him a tense smile. “Next, Clarissa Drought.”

Drought looked very upset by this, tossing her hair impetuously as she joined Goyle. “Tracey Davis. Vincent Crabbe. Millicent Bulstrode. Robin Oliphant. Lucille Travers.” Lucille looked furious as she took her place, but Aurora thought Pansy appeared quite pleased with the result. “Leah MacMillan. Blaise Zabini. Daphne Greengrass.” They were all getting nervous now, tiredness forgotten. The first ten of the eighteen had been called; Aurora was in the top half. “Lewis Stebbins. Gwendolyn Tearston.” Gwendolyn appeared slightly shocked by this declaration. “Pansy Parkinson. Draco Malfoy. Aurora Black. And Theodore Nott.”

She’d come top - almost. Only beaten by Theodore. Aurora blinked in surprise, and then slowly but surely smiled as she took her place with the others. A great applause went up for her, though she couldn’t help but notice the sourness of Pansy and Lucille, and of Draco and Blaise’s pursed lips. But she had done this. She had ranked second, and while it wasn’t first, it was still pretty good.

“Now,” Ursula went on, “normally at this point we would have you all form a circle and join hands. However, two of your yearmates have not been initiated, and you must do the bonding ritual as a whole group. It is sacred to Slytherin. However, you will all make your oaths tonight. We begin with Theodore Nott.”

Though she could see Theodore holding his hand out, to have a statue of a silver snake placed in it, she couldn’t hear anything that was said. She supposed that was part of the magic. It was only a few minutes before her own name was called.

“Aurora Black. Step forward, Aurora, and hold out your wand arm. This is not an Unbreakable Vow, to avoid any alarm. This is a private oath entirely your own, a pledge of allegiance to your house, your family, and the legacy you will leave behind in seven years’ time.”

Aurora smiled assuredly as she stepped forward. She was a Slytherin, she had proved that tonight, and everyone here knew it. She was as far from her father as she could possibly be, and she relished in that. “Turn your palm to the ceiling,” Ursula instructed, and Aurora did so. A cold silver statue of a snake was placed in her hand. It wobbled slightly, but Aurora was determined to keep her hand flat. Ursula smiled. “Repeat after me,” she said. “I, Aurora Black.”

“I, Aurora Black.”

“Do solemnly swear, by the gaze of Salazar Slytherin himself.”

“Do solemnly swear, by the gaze of Salazar Slytherin himself.”

“That I ally myself from this night forward.”

“That I ally myself from this night forward.”

“To Slytherin House, to my sisters and to my brothers, to my descendants and to my ancestors.”

“To Slytherin House, to my sisters and to my brothers, to my descendants and to my ancestors.”

“That I will uphold the honour, values, and traditions of this noble house.”

“That I will uphold the honour, values, and traditions of this noble house.”

“That I will guard its secrets as my own.”

“That I will guard its secrets as my own.”

“And that I will forever be known as a Slytherin.”

“And that I will forever be known as a Slytherin.”

“Long past these seven years, and long past my life.”

“Long past these seven years, and long past my life.”

Ursula smiled. “I swear and declare that I, Aurora Black, am a true Slytherin.”

She couldn’t help herself from beaming. “I swear and declare that I, Aurora Black, am a true Slytherin.”

She could almost feel the magic in the air as her housemates cheered and applauded for her, as they hissed in that strangely friendly way, and Ursula took the snake from her to pass on to Draco. “Well done,” she whispered. “You’re our sister now, Aurora.”

She couldn’t have been happier. Her exhaustion was forgotten almost entirely as she went to join the older Slytherins, who offered her congratulations and chatted about her tasks like they had known her all their lives. Of course they all stayed silent for the other oaths, as was tradition, but Aurora felt giddy with the sense of belonging. “You may all stay and enjoy the revels as long as you wish,” Ursula declared once Goyle had made his oath. “Tomorrow night get a good rest. We meet at dawn on the second to formally bond your year.”

She smiled, as did all the others, and Aurora found a drink thrust into her hand. “To Slytherin!” Ursula cried.

“To Slytherin!”


	12. Slytherin Bonding

The change among their year group was obvious over the next day. A lot more of the older years paid attention to Aurora now, many of them nodding to acknowledge her when she made her way around the school. It was a nice feeling, to be recognised and appreciated by the other students. Even though she was exhausted all through her classes the next day, she couldn’t help but be proud of what she’d achieved at the initiation.

At dawn on Saturday morning, they all traipsed back to the common room. Sally-Anne Perks and Apollo Jones sat, pale and tired-looking, on the sofa. “Your peers,” Ursula Flint said as the last boys trickled in, “have now completed their initiation, witnessed by myself. It is now time for this group to complete your bonding ritual to one another.

“This ritual is an age-old tradition. From now on you are a family. You will not turn your backs on one another. You will support, defend, and protect one another. No matter what happens within these walls, to the rest of the school you are one entity, one family, and you will come to the defense of one another in any situation, should it be required. Gather into a circle, wet your fingertips in the basin in the middle here, and then join hands.”

From the looks on everyone else’s faces, they all felt a bit foolish, but nevertheless they all dipped their fingers in the same water basin and joined hands in a circle like children, Aurora between Draco and Daphne. “From this day forth,” said Ursula, “I proclaim you Slytherins. Say these words together. Et mare magnum et callidus anguis. Et intellectivum sunt diversa saecula, quod sumus.”

“Et mare magnum et callidus anguis,” Aurora repeated in a murmur. “Et intellectivum sunt diversa saecula, quod sumus.”

Ursula smiled at them. “Participes nos autem in nomine Slytherin vinculum, quod nulla oblivione rumpitur.”

“Participes nos autem in nomine Slytherin vinculum, quod nulla oblivione rumpitur.”

“Release your hands.”

Aurora could already feel the magic pulsing between them, passing from one Slytherin to another. A bond that could not be broken. “Congratulations,” Ursula Flint said, a proud gleam in her eyes. “For anyone wondering, you just swore yourselves bonded under Slytherin. The first part is the Slytherin motto - Be great as the sea and sly as the snake. Forever they are united, as we are. The second part is your bonding oath. We share a bond in the name of Slytherin, never to be broken.” Ursula smiled at them. “You join a legacy of thousands before you, and you join yourselves in spirit, magic, and friendship. Well done. I hope you will do Salazar proud.”

In the week or so after the bonding and initiation, it became clear that the Slytherins had all, whether they liked it or not, grown much closer, while also quickly creating their own heirarchy. Aurora noticed she was more often invited to conversation, and the year group seemed to naturally gravitate to new positions on the first year sofas, with her or Theodore often claiming the favoured spot on the comfiest sofa next to the most ornate coffee table. She didn’t know if the other students had noticed their new dynamic, or if the other houses had undergone similar ceremonies, but she was glad she had been through it and come out of it the way she did.

Their bonding, too, could not have come at a better time. The second Saturday of November would see Slytherin playing Gryffindor, and rumour had it that Potter would be playing Seeker. “It’s ridiculous,” Draco declared, pacing up and down with his robes swishing behind him. “Utterly ridiculous! Wait until my father hears about this, we weren’t even allowed to try out! I bet this is why he got his broom! Stupid - stupid scarhead Potter!”

Aurora shared his sentiments quite fully. She dearly hoped that Slytherin destroyed Gryffindor as they had reportedly done last year, for she didn’t think she could take Potter being victorious in his first match as Seeker. Terrence Higgs, the Slytherin Seeker, seemed entirely at ease. “Have you seen the size of him?” he sneered. “A faint wind’ll blow him off his broom, and he’s a first year. I’m not worried about Potter.”

They all woke early and excited on the day of the match. “Here’s to Slytherin’s seven year streak,” the Quidditch Captain, Marcus Flint, said at the breakfast table, raising his glass of pumpkin juice.

“Here, here!” they all cried in response, beaming.

By eleven o’clock, the whole school had traipsed down to the Quidditch Pitch. Crabbe elbowed a second year out of the way so they could squeeze into the front of the stands and get the best view, both Aurora and Draco leaning excitedly over the railings. “Even if Potter is Seeker,” Draco was saying, “which would be ridiculous, Higgs has him beat in every way.”

“Potter has a Nimbus Two Thousand though,” Aurora pointed out with a scowl. “When I’m on the team next year, I’m going to get a better broom and then he’ll see.”

“You think you’re going to be on the team?” Draco asked with a laugh.

“More likely me than you,” she retorted. “Higgs will be leaving, which leaves Seeker open, and that would be my best position. Course, Andrews leaving means there’ll be a Chaser spot open, too.” She smirked at Draco. “Maybe you could get a reserve spot.”

Draco scoffed. “Flint wouldn’t even give you a reserve spot, Aurora.”

“Why not? I’m better than you are, aren’t I?”

Draco glared at her. “Sod off, Aurora.” He stomped over to stand by Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle, leaving Aurora with Theodore and Daphne.

“He’s right. Girls don’t get on the team,” Theodore said, and Daphne jabbed him in the stomach with her wand. “Oi!”

“And that isn’t our fault,” Daphne told him. “Is it?”

They were saved from any further argument by a great cheer going up around them. The two teams had just come out of the changing rooms, Gryffindor in long scarlet robes and Slytherin in a classic emerald, all of them bearing their brooms. Aurora could see Potter just behind Oliver Wood, looking pale and nervous as he clutched his Nimbus Two Thousand.

She smirked as they mounted their brooms and the captains shook hands. Madam Hooch counted down and then blew sharply on her whistle. The two teams took to the air. “Come on, Slytherin!” Aurora yelled out enthusiastically with the roar of her classmates behind her.

It was a dirty game, but that was no surprise. Lee Jordan, the commentator, was a Gryffindor - which Aurora thought entirely unfair - and as such he made a great deal out of Flint almost knocking Potter off of his broom in what Aurora thought was a completely fair tackle, and said nothing when Terrence Higgs had a Bludger swung at him by a Weasley and very nearly had his head taken off. “Rotten commentating,” Theodore muttered under his breath. “Why’d they get a Gryffindor to do it?”

But they were stopped from their anger soon. Potter’s broom had started behaving very strangely, like it was trying to buck him off. “What’s happening?” Aurora asked, staring around.

“I don’t know,” Daphne said, staring. “I thought you said it was a Nimbus Two Thousand he had.”

“It is,” Aurora told her. “Draco!” Draco had a pair of binoculars, which he turned on her, looking quite silly. “Put those down. What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” Draco said, stowing the binoculars away. He looked slightly pink. “Looks like Potter’s got himself a cursed broom.”

“Who did it?”

“I don’t know,” Draco said, looking up gleefully as Potter was swung off of the broom, dangling by its handle. “But whoever it is, they’re my idol.”

“He’s going to fall off!” Theodore sounded unexpectedly alarmed. “Merlin’s beard!”

Aurora watched as Potter’s broom bucked, as she swung wildly in the air. The whole game appeared to have been unofficially suspended, as she and all the others watched. Then there was a cry from the staff box, and as suddenly as it had begun, Potter’s broom stopped bucking. Aurora stared at him, and then her gaze went to the staff box, where Snape was slightly smoking. That was the cause of the disturbance there, and it had stopped right at the same time.

She looked back to Potter, who was white in the face but had regained his position on his broom. And then it wasn’t long before the game started to end. The two Seekers had both gone into deep dives, and Potter and Higgs plummeted neck and neck down towards the Snitch. Aurora’s heart was in her throat. “Come on, Higgs!” she yelled over the din of the crowd. “Come on now! You can beat Potter! Come on, Higgs!”

But Potter was slipping past Higgs. He was gaining further towards the Snitch, racing towards the ground. “Someone hit a Bludger!” Draco shrieked. “Get him!”

No one did. About five feet from the ground, Potter reared up, stumbling to stand. “He looks like he’s going to be sick!”

Aurora stared, transfixed, as Potter seemed to retch and then, heaving, a tiny speck of gold fell from his mouth. The Snitch. “That can’t be allowed!” Draco howled. “He didn’t catch it, he near swallowed it!”

But it didn’t seem to matter. The Gryffindors were swarming the pitch in delight as the official score was announced, Gryffindor winning by over a hundred points, and Aurora trooped sadly back to the dungeons with her housemate. “Load of rubbish,” she muttered. “They shouldn’t have a first year playing in the first place! Absolute rubbish!”

They all went to bed in a mood that night.

Aurora woke unexpectedly in the middle of the night from a dream she could hardly remember. Something with a flying motorbike and a dancing stag. She shook her head, checking the time of her watch, which lay on her bedside table. It was half past three. Groaning, she rolled over and tried to shut her eyes again, but she could hear someone sniffling. No, not just sniffling. Crying.

“Tearston?” she asked the darkness. The crying stopped momentarily and then resumed louder. Irritation prickled at her. Aurora wanted to get her to stop crying, but didn’t think that simply telling her to cut it out would be helpful. She got up, turning the light in, and looked over at Gwendolyn’s curled up form. “Why are you crying?”

Gwendolyn let out a sob. “It doesn’t matter. Go away, Black.”

“This is my room,” she reminded her, prickling. “I’m not going to go away. I want to know why you’re crying.” That just made Gwendolyn cry harder. Aurora switched tack, but she wasn’t very used to girls crying in front of her. She hated crying. She tried not to let her tired irritation show in her voice. “Gwendolyn? It’s alright. You can tell me, or I can get Tracey or Clarissa for you.”

Gwendolyn let out a loud sob and sat up, covering her face with her hands. “You can’t!” she cried. “They don’t even like me!”

Aurora was taken aback by this. “I thought the three of you were friends?”

Gwendolyn shook her head vigorously. “No! I thought so but - but they ditched me after a couple of weeks and they’ve been friends for the longest time. I don’t know how to make friends. Everyone here seems to have known each other forever!”

“But-“ Aurora spluttered, confused. “Then where have you been going if you’re not in their room?”

Gwendolyn buried her head in her hands. “I’ve been sleeping in the common room some nights. Or I get up early and come in late. I-“ She looked at Aurora and burst into a wet sob, shaking her head again.

“You really hate me that much?” Her stomach felt sour at the realisation.

“You hate me!” Gwendolyn cried, and Aurora blinked. “You - you - they said your father’s a murderer! He killed all those people and more, and he hated Muggleborns and you’re the same!”

“Who said that?” Aurora demanded furiously. “Davis and Drought?” She got to her feet abruptly and swept over to Gwendolyn, who trembled. “Look at me,” she said. “Look at me!”

She shouted the command, and Gwendolyn looked at her with wide, scared eyes. “Listen here, Gwendolyn. I am not my father, alright? I hate him. My family hates him; not for the reasons most people do, but they still do. I’m a lot of things and I don’t care what people think of me for what I do, but don’t judge me on my father. I’m not a murderer. I don’t hate you, and I have no intentions of hurting you, either.” She looked down nervously, feeling guilt in her stomach. “I didn’t know you had nowhere to go,” she admitted quietly. “I thought everytime you weren’t here you were with Davis and Drought, so I never really questioned it.”

Gwendolyn swallowed and shook her head. “I just - I didn’t want to share a room with - with you.” That stung. It really did. “The people here don’t like people like me. They don’t like Muggleborns, and I know you’re the same.”

Aurora blinked in surprise. “Wait, you’re a Muggleborn?” She hadn’t even known. Had never thought she was a Muggleborn, just that she was a half blood whose family name she didn’t know.

“Yes,” Gwendolyn told her tearfully. “And you all hate me for it and it isn’t my fault! I didn’t know anything about the Wizarding World! I had no idea! Everyone judges me! Even - even Tracey and Clarissa do, I know they do!” She breathed in deeply, lip wobbling.

“I didn’t know,” Aurora said, taking a step back. This whole time she’d been sharing a room with a Muggleborn girl and she hadn’t even known. She didn’t like Gwendolyn, though she didn’t hate her, but... If she’d known she was a Muggleborn, would that have made a difference? It certainly wouldn’t have made her like her more...

“So you think people judge you because of your parents,” she said, keeping her voice as even as she could. “People judge me because of my father every day. All of them. Some because he’s a murderer, and a Death Eater, and they’re not in the wrong to hate him. Some people, like my grandmother, hate him because he was a blood traitor. Because he liked Muggles and Muggleborns, and he turned his back on his family and betrayed them and joined Gryffindor.” She clenched his fists. “I... I don’t know if they’re right there or not. I’ve never really been able to reconcile the two. I knownit - it isn’t the same thing. But the point is we both get judged by things we can’t help. I don’t judge you for being a Muggleborn - I didn’t even know you were, that’s how non-judgmental I am - so you shouldn’t judge me for my father being a murder.”

“Those are two very different things.”

“I know.” Aurora bit her lip. “I really am sorry for making you not have anywhere to go. I didn’t realise.”

Gwendolyn looked at her fearful but must have realised the sincerity in her voice. “And I’m sorry for ass-assuming you were like your father,” she said very quickly. “Tracey and Clarissa told me that first night and... Well, it was scary to share a room with the daughter of a mass murderer!” Aurora smiled wryly. “But you were decent a couple of times. There were times I even thought you might be friendly, in the first few weeks.”

“Then I yelled at you,” Aurora said, remembering. “I’m sorry.” It took a lot for her to say that, but she was glad that she did.

“I shouldn’t have believed what they said, and been so frightened.” Gwendolyn held out her hand, pinkie extended. “Friends?”

Aurora stared at her for a moment. Be friends with a Muggleborn? It was the kind of thing her father got in trouble for. Did it count as blood betrayal? Maybe not quite, not if it was only one. And if she didn’t know Gwendolyn was a Muggleborn then maybe the others didn’t either. She was still a Slytherin after all. And her roommate - her family would surely understand the logistics of being on friendly terms with her roommate of seven years. Just for practical reasons, she kind of had to make amends with Gwendolyn. She couldn’t well let this go on and end up getting her in trouble.

So that was why she smiled. She reached out her own pinkie and hooked it with Gwendolyn’s, a little nervous, but also kind of hopeful. “Yeah,” she said, grinning. “Friends.”


	13. The Lion, The Snake, and The Mirror

Christmas approached fast as everyone immersed themselves in their studies. All of Aurora’s friends - including, now, Gwendolyn - were excited to go home for the holidays, but Aurora couldn’t help but feel sad. It would be her first Christmas without Arcturus that she had ever remembered.

And at the start of December, she got a letter from Aunt Lucretia. Her and Uncle Ignatius were both very unwell with dragon pox, and so wouldn’t be able to take her for Christmas, though they promised they’d see her at Easter. It still stung. When Professor Snape came around the Slytherin Common Room with a list for students to sign up to stay over the break, he sneered at her, seeming delighted. “No father to go back to?” Her heart felt like it had been punctured by a rib.

She shook her head, scrawled her name and left him in silence. “You should have said you were staying,” Gwendolyn told her. “Will you be on your own?”

“Probably,” she replied, shrugging as if it didn’t bother her. “Draco and Pansy are both going home for Christmas.” Gwendolyn’s face fell. “Don’t feel bad about it,” Aurora told her sharply, bristling at the thought of being pitied. “I can’t wait to have the run of this place without anyone getting in my way.”

That didn’t stop Gwendolyn from giving her a worried look, which Aurora pointedly ignored. She wasn’t about to spill everything to her, about Snape, about her father, about how she did secretly wish Draco or Pansy were staying, and how she wished Arcturus was still alive. Those things were too close to her to tell anyone.

The final week of classes, most people didn’t do much work as they wound down towards the holidays. Aurora studied and worked as diligently as always, prompting teasing from Pansy. “Just because it’s December doesn’t mean none of this will come up on the exams,” she told Pansy in response.

One teacher who did not let up on their workload was Professor Snape, who became even nastier than usual in the lead up to the holidays. This prompted Gwendolyn to refer to him as Professor ‘Scrooge’, a title that she did not understand at all. “I can’t believe you don’t know who Charles Dickens is,” she told Aurora exasperatedly. “Who’s your favourite author?”

“I don’t know about author,” she said, “but I really enjoy Herodotus.”

“The Greek guy?” Gwendolyn stared at her. “Aurora, I don’t know how to tell you this, but no one enjoys the Greeks.”

“Well, I do!” Aurora said defensively. “And Herodotus is important, he’s basically the first ever historian.”

“Okay, but who’s your favourite fiction author?” Gwendolyn asked. Aurora stared at her. “You know? Roald Dahl? Tolkien? Enid Blyton?” She looked at Gwendolyn blankly. She didn’t know any of these people. “What about the Brontes? Jane Austen?”

“I have no idea who any of these people are.”

Gwendolyn pulled a face. “What do you read then? You pure blood witches?”

“I told you. I like History, Herodotus particularly, he isn’t too difficult a read. And I have an interest in Alchemical and Numerological texts. In terms of fiction, I suppose I do rather like William Shakespeare - I think he was a Muggle, I don’t know if you’ve heard of him?”

Gwendolyn spluttered. “Shakespeare?”

“Haven’t you heard of him?”

“Yes. Yes, I have heard of Shakespeare, Aurora.” She laughed, shaking her head. “It’s no wonder you’re so stiff.”

“Stiff?”

“So the only fiction you’ve read is Shakespeare?”

“Well... Yes. My uncle didn’t have any children’s books, apart from a few that were in French that I was allowed to read.”

Gwendolyn stared at her and shook her head. “So you speak French?”

“And Latin. Well, as much as one really can speak Latin given it is a dead language and our pronounciation of it in the modern day has been warped through the transformation of language and dialect, so we don’t really know for certain what it sounded like. There aren’t any native speakers left, see.”

“Good to know,” Gwendolyn said with a wry smile.

The pair of them went to breakfast together, which was fast becoming a more common occurrence. When they reached the table, however, Gwendolyn split off to sit by Robin Oliphant and Leah MacMillan, and Aurora took her usual place between Draco and Pansy. “How is Tearston?”

“Better,” Aurora said. “She doesn’t flinch at her own shadow anymore, so I suppose that must be something of an improvement.”

Her friends were all tangibly excited for the holidays, but Aurora knew that Draco wasn’t quite looking forward to it as much as he was trying to make everyone believe. “We’ve had a spot of bother,” he told her quietly. “The Ministry - well, some certain people in the Ministry - are investigating Father again, and he thinks they may be attempting to search the house anytime soon. I doubt they might find anything, but Christmas shan’t be the same, especially as Mother is being more careful with our finances - just in case they get suspicious.”

Aurora raised her eyebrows as they headed inside the classroom. “You mean in case they think your father’s been involved in speculation again?”

“Not so loud,” Draco hissed. He was looking rather pale. “I’m sure they won’t - Fudge would never suspect Father, he makes far too generous donations for that. I do wish you could visit, but Father doesn’t think it would be a particularly good idea to have someone, well... with a reputation in the Dark Arts.”

“I don’t have a reputation in the Dark Arts,” she said. “Might I remind you it is your father being investigated?”

“Under threat of investigation,” Draco said, cheeks pink. “And your father-“

“I know quite enough about my father, thank you. But he had a reputation, not me.”

They worked mainly in silence for the class, which was rare. Potter and Weasley were chatting even louder and more obnoxiously than usual, and so Aurora wasn’t entirely surprised when at the end of the class, Draco passed them and said loudly, “I do feel sorry for those people who have to stay at Hogwarts over Christmas because they have no family who want them.”

That prickled at her more than she cared to admit. “You know I only said it to rile Potter,” Draco told her, “and besides, your aunt and uncle do want you, they’re just unwell.”

She looked sideways at him and sighed. “You didn’t need to say it though, Draco. Choose something else to pick on Potter for, you have plenty of options.”

She walked off on her own towards the library in search of a new book about Transfiguration to read.

She found the book she was looking for after a few minutes. She stood on her tiptoes, reaching for the book just above her - Ancient Transfigurational and Spell Formulae. Her nails scraped against the worn leather spine and she glared at the book, before a rather clever idea occurred to her. Pulling out her wand, she whispered, “Wingardium leviosa.”

The book trembled for a moment and she concentrated onnit levitating slowly off of its shelf, and into her hand. She caught it with a grin, and was about to head to a corner to read when she heard a familiar voice. “We have to find anything about Nicholas Flamel.” It was Hermione Granger: Potter’s smart friend.

“Alright,” said Potter himself, sounding uncertain. “I know I’ve read it somewhere... I just don’t know where.”

She narrowed her eyes leaning closer to the end of the bookshelves to hear. “And you’re quite sure you don’t know anything, Ronald?”

“No,” said Weasley. “Mum wouldn’t tell me anything- Oi.” He’d spotted Aurora lingering at the shelf. With a grimace, shestepped out into the open and arched a cool brow.

“Yes, Weasley?”

“What are you doing there?”

Aurora rolled her eyes and held up her book. “Getting a book. To read. In silence. That’s what libraries are supposed to be used for.” She narrowed her eyes at them. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing.”

“That’s a lie.” She glanced at Hermione Granger, who looked the most nervous of the trio. “What are you up to? I didn’t think you were the types to be interested in Nicholas Flamel. Maybe Granger, but-“

“Nicholas Flamel?” Granger interrupted. Aurora glared at her.

“Yes.” When they looked at her blankly, she went on in confusion, “You were talking about Nicholas Flamel.”

Potter looked indignant. “Were you spying on us?”

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head with a loud sigh. “No, of course not. You’re just all awfully loud. Especially for a library.” Granger, to her credit, did look apologetic. “Anyway, you’re all boring me now. Please stop gaping, I have to check out these books.”

She barely got a few steps before Potter said, “Wait.” She turned around. Weasley was sending his friend furtive looks, and appeared to be rather pale. “What do you know about Nicholas Flamel?”

She smirked and turned around to stare at Potter. “You are up to something, aren’t you?”

“Just tell us,” Potter said tiredly. “Please?”

Aurora scoffed. “No. Maybe. If you tell me what you’re doing.” She leaned towards them curiously but the three of them all exchanged glances and shook their heads. “Alright, then. Have fun on your library search.”

She made to walk away, going to check out her book with Madam Pince, who looked at her sternly. The three Gryffindors were still wandering, seemingly aimlessly, around the library in search of whatever it was they were looking for about Nicholas Flamel. She wondered if they would tell her if she pressed hard enough over the Christmas holidays - she had to admit, she was curious what they had to be so secretive about. Her own book even mentioned Flamel, yet from the looks on their faces they didn’t seem to have found anything. Amateurs, she thought to herself, and smirked as she placed the book along with three others she’d found on Alchemy into her bag and set off for the dungeons. It would be amusing to see how long they kept it up, and knowing she might have the exact book they were looking for gave her something of a delight. She skipped back to her room to read it before heading to the rest of her classes, dreaming of the holidays. It would be fun to be on her own, she told her.

Breakfast on the first day of the holidays was a rather sobering affair, though. All up and down the Slytherin table, her housemates discussed their holiday plans and what they expected to receive from their parents. Draco was loudly telling everyone who would listen how he expected a Nimbus Two Thousand of his own as well as several hampers of sweets, while Pansy expected some ‘gorgeous’ new robes she’d pointed out to her parents as well as a whole load of jewellery. Aurora didn’t know what she was expecting, though she hoped for jewellery and some books, and maybe some new casual robes. Arcturus had always been good at giving gifts, the sort you didn’t know you wanted until you got them, and cherished them. The earrings she was wearing today were a gift from last Christmas - silver studs with topaz set in them.

“I’ll write to you,” Gwendolyn said in their room just as she was about to leave.

“You don’t have to.”

“Aurora.”

“Yes?”

Gwendolyn met her eyes and huffed, hoisting her bag onto her shoulder. “You’re really bloody annoying sometimes.”

Aurora smirked. “Well, at least I know you aren’t scared of me anymore. Enjoy your holiday.”

Being on her own got old quickly. There was only one other Slytherin staying, a sixth year whose name Aurora didn’t even know for sure, and from her year the only other students still in the castle were Potter and Weasley, which did not help her at all. She sat in a small alcove with a window overlooking the courtyard, reading about Divination - one of the abstract magics - while glancing down every so often as Potter and the four Weasleys threw snowballs at each other, and made snowballs, and all manner of sickeningly friendly things that made her want to throw her book straight through the window at them.

“Black.” She glanced up sharply, seeing Professor Snape glaring down at her. “Still skulking around, I see?”

“Yes,” she said, just as sharply, and stood up, snapping her book shut. “This area isn’t out of bounds, is it, Professor?”

“No,” Snape said, his lip curling in dislike. “But I have my eye on you, Black.”

She felt much more confident than she should have when she tilted her chin up, met his eyes with a sneer and said, “And I have my eye on you, sir.”

Then she turned and strode down the corridor without letting him get a word in. He would be furious with her of course, but she found she didn’t care. She was restless without anyone else, and if aggravating Snape allowed her to get that restlessness out, then fine. It wasn’t like he didn’t take his own bitterness out on her.

She ended up heading outside to where Potter and the Weasleys were having a jolly old time together, and she scowled as she passed. They were so loud. “Miss Black!” Snape yelled after her. She ignored him, smirking to herself. She really had pissed him off. “Black! Black!”

About halfway between the two teams of the snowball fight, Aurora paused and turned around, folding her arms and cocking her hip. “Yes?”

“I will not be spoken to with such insolence,” Snape hissed at her, and grabbed her arm, painfully. His fingernails dug in and he was spitting as he spoke. “I will be treated with respect by my students, Black. I will not be made a fool of by one so insolent and juvenile as you!”

She was horrified to find her heart beating fast in fear. “Let me go,” she said coldly, putting on her best front. But her voice wobbled. His nails were sharp.

“You are just like your father. Arrogant and insolent, and you’ll meet the same fate as he or your mother, one way or another-“

Something pelted him in the back of the head, startling him just enough that he let go of Aurora, who was shaking. Her father was one thing but her mother - her mother, who no one spoke about, whose name she didn’t know, who died before she was old enough to even remember her face. Her eyes burned with tears as Snape roared at the older Weasley boy who had thrown a snowball at his head, one of the twins. “Detention!” he snarled, looking around furiously. “For all five of you!”

And he stormed back into the castle. Aurora let out a shaky breath, grasping her book tightly to her chest as she tried to regain her stature. She wouldn’t cry, she told herself bitterly, swallowing the burning lump in her throat.

“Hey,” said one of the Weasley twins, who had come over to her. “Are you alright?”

She looked between him, his brothers, and Potter, all of whom looked shocked by what they’d just seen. Aurora could feel her cheeks blazing as she swallowed deeply, shaking her hair out, and drew herself up to her full height. “Perfectly fine, thank you,” she said stiffly. “Snape hates me. I can’t say I’m surprised by this development.” But she was. And she was rattled. She met the Weasley boy’s eyes. “Thanks...”

“I’m George. This is Fred, my twin. And you might know Harry and Ron?” She nodded awkwardly over George’s shoulder. Both boys looked too surprised to say anything against her.

“Yeah. We’re in the same year.” She smiled thinly. “Thank you. You have a very good throw.”

“You can join us if you want,” George said. “We’re having a snowball fight.”

“Oh, no thank you.” She shook her head. “I couldn’t possibly compete with your throwing skills. And I have a book to read. But thank you.” She smiled again at George and then went to a nearby bench to read her book as the boys resumed their match with fervour.

On Christmas morning Aurora awoke to a small stack of presents at the bottom of her bed and grinned. From Aunt Lucretia and Uncle Ignatius came a new set of pale blue casual robes and a new silver comb; from Draco a collection of books on Theories of Transfiguration; from Pansy a nice, sweet vanilla perfume; and, unexpectedly, from Gwendolyn, there was a box of chocolate frogs. She grinned, and promptly ate one as a celebratory breakfast to herself. The card was Agrippa, and she set it aside in her drawer collection, before getting to work writing short, polite thank you notes.

She got ready and headed to the Great Hall for a solitary Christmas lunch. The Slytherin sixth year was leaving the common room at the same time as her, and they regarded each other with cold wariness before silently agreeing to walk upstairs together. “Black,” he said at the entrance, and nodded to her as he departed. She grimaced at his back as he went to join a pair of Ravenclaw girls, and she went to sit alone at the end of the table, pulling a lonely cracker with herself.

A small pink sugar mouse leapt out and scurried along the table. She slammed her hand down on top of it in successful capture, and popped it in her mouth, savouring the sweet taste before she got started on lunch. The Weasleys and Potter looked to be having a jolly old time of it at their table, she noticed resentfully. There was a pang of jealousy in her chest that she told herself was hatred for their arrogance, as she blinked away lonely, bitter tears and fixated herself on her plate.

In the evenings, she couldn’t sleep. There wasn’t much to do in the day anyways, and she figured there was more to do than sleep. She took to wandering the castle at nights, eyes and ears wary for anyone who might catch her, but she was sneaky. No one ever caught her; she was too good for that.

A few nights after Christmas Day, she was seeking out a quiet classroom with a different view in which she could do some reading about the seven aspects of magic. But instead she stumbled in on Harry Potter of all people, sitting in front of a dusty mirror. She stared at him, lingering in the doorway, and he glanced up, wary at first and then annoyed when he realised who she was.

“Potter,” she greeted.

“Black.”

Her eyes went to the mirror, which Potter had seemed transfixed by. “What’s that?”

“Nothing.” He scrambled to his feet, wiping at his eyes, and Aurora realised he’d been crying. Taken aback, she didn’t know what to say, but instead walked towards him.

“What is it?”

Standing in front of him, she still didn’t get an answer. She glanced at the mirror, turning to it, and her stomach dropped.

It was her, but it wasn’t. She was taller, older, prettier. A young woman. There was no one around her, but there was a camera, and there seemed to be newspaper clippings behind her. They spoke of her achievements in Alchemy, in Transfiguration and Potions and Quidditch. She stared at it, transfixed. They didn’t use her last name, and they didn’t need to. She was a Black in the glint of her eyes, in the curl of her lips. She was Aurora. She was not the daughter or relative of anyone, Death Eater or Blood Traitor or anyone in between.

“What is this?” she breathed, fingers pressed to the glass. There was a man slowly appearing behind her and a woman, and she knew these were her parents. Her heart skipped a beat and she recoiled, hating the fact that she saw him there. She didn’t want him there, but he didn’t go away. She wheeled around on Potter, heart pounding. “What is this?”

“It’s - it’s a mirror,” he said quickly. “It shows you... what you want. Whatever you want.”

She looked back at it. She didn’t want to see her father, that Death Eater, Blood Traitor, stupid, reckless scum of her blood. Her eyes stung with angry, furious tears. “What do you see them?” she asked bitterly, and then regretted it when she looked at Potter’s eyes. She knew what he saw. And given what she saw... She felt sickened. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly. His eyes were glimmering, and they looked pained, honestly. That was her father’s fault. And apparently, she wanted to see him. Maybe Potter was wrong. He probably was.

She backed away, finding herself shaking, but she still couldn’t bring herself to leave. Her eyes went back to the mirror, that awful mirror, and then with a great, heavy sigh, she sat down. Potter stared at her. “What are you doing?”

“I came here to read. So that’s what I’m doing.”

His stare turned to a glare. “Get out!”

She regarded him coolly, though her heart was still pounding. She didn’t want to cry, and the only way to stop herself from crying was by reading something that made sense. Something based on logic and logic alone, that was not subject to emotions. “No. You’re more than welcome to keep staring at that awful thing. I won’t stop you.”

She started reading about the seven aspects of magic. They’d only really touched on transfigurational and enchanting magic so far, with a natural incorporation of elemental magic, but the others - healing, protective, martial, and abstract - would all begin to crop up soon, and she wanted to get a head start on learning. Plus, she found the concepts behind abstract magic both fascinating and frustrating, so that she could hardly stop herself from being curious. She read until her eyes stung from weariness and the bad lighting, and only then did she let herself look back at Potter. He was transfixed by the mirror again. Aurora swallowed nervously as she stood up, making to head for the door. He didn’t even seem to notice her when she left. She didn’t intend on returning.

Despite how she had enjoyed having the castle to herself for a while, Aurora was glad when her friends returned from Christmas break and she could stop seeing everybody else’s pitying looks. “Have you found out why Potter’s interested in Nicolas Flamel yet?” Gwendolyn asked her while Aurora helped her unpack after dinner. She was the only one as of yet whom Aurora had told about her eavesdropping - since Pansy wouldn’t care and Draco would care far too much - and was most interested in it.

“No,” she said. “Although, I did come across him this one night.” She told Gwen vaguely about the strange mirror, and some of what she’d seen. She left out the part about her father.

“That is weird,” she said. “I wonder what he saw?”

“Do you?” Aurora asked, raising her eyebrows. She waited for the penny to drop with Gwen, whose face went suddenly white.

“Oh. OH.”

“Yeah.” She sighed and shook her head. “It was weird being there with him. We didn’t even argue, not really.”

“That’s a miracle,” Gwen said, grinning. “I kind of want to see this mirror now. Maybe it’s magic.” She winked.

“It’s definitely magic,” Aurora said with a laugh. “But I’m not taking you there, I don’t want to see it again.”

Gwen shrugged, laying her brush out on her bedside table. Aurora wrinkled her nose; it was covered in hair. “That’s gross,” she told Gwen, who stared at her. “It’s covered in your hair!”

Gwendolyn blinked. “It’s my hairbrush.”

“It looks like a mouse. Stella might eat it.”

“She’d better not!” Gwen looked at the hairbrush. “It’s not even that bad.”

“It is so! Clean it up.”

Gwen gaped at her. “You sound like my mum!”

“Good. You probably listen to her.”

Gwen shook her head, and tugged hair from her brush. “You’re absolutely impossible, Aurora.”

She grinned. “That’s me.”

Classes were in full swing after returning from the holidays. Aurora ended up having her detention on the first Friday evening back, alongside Potter and Weasley, having been reminded of it during Potions. “You didn’t tell us you got a detention,” Pansy hissed when they left.

“I forgot,” she said honestly. “And I didn’t even do anything - it was one of the Weasley twins who threw the snowball.” That was partially because of her, she thought, but she didn’t mention that.

“Well, that sounds entirely unfair to me,” Draco said, sniffing. “And you have to do it with Weasley and Potter. I’d refuse.”

“I can’t refuse,” Aurora laughed. “Snape hates me enough already.”

So at seven o’clock that night she made the short walk to Professor Snape’s classroom. Weasley and Potter arrived the same time as her, and they all looked at each other awkwardly, not knowing who ought to go in first. Aurora huffed loudly, rolled her eyes haughtily, and swept inside.

Snape glared at them. “Potter, clean out those cauldrons. Weasley, my store cupboard needs organising. Black.” His lip curled in dislike. “I have horned slugs and eels that need slicing.” He pointed to the table in the corner heaped with slimy, squidgy creatures. Aurora was slightly revolted, but she supposed it could’ve worse. At least she wasn’t squeamish.

“Fine,” she said, and the three of them all separated to their respective areas.

Snape kept sweeping around like a bat, eyes glittering with fury when he saw that Aurora didn’t actually hate the task she was doing. It was methodical and practical. She enjoyed the feeling of the slice of the knife, horrid as that might have seemed. It slid through cleanly and smoothly, again and again and again until she had chopped everything on the desk and sorted them into labelled jars. Potter was still scrubbing the bottom of a stubborn cauldron. There was a crash from the store cupboard that told Aurora that Weasley had messed something up.

Snape sneered and went through to yell at him. Aurora caught Potter’s eye. “Do you want a hand?” she found herself asking. She’d surprised herself by doing so.

Clearly, she’d surprised Potter, too. He stared at her, perplexed. “You’re finished?” She nodded. He glanced at the store cupboard. “I don’t think he’d like it.”

“True.” She rolled her eyes and then hesitated. She was, after all, still curious. “Did you ever find what you were looking for? About Nicholas Flamel?”

Potter looked shocked that she’d asked. “No,” he told her slowly. “Why?”

She shrugged. “I’m curious as to why you’re looking for him, if you don’t know about his work.” Potter didn’t say anything and she smirked. “Why don’t you want anyone to know? You’re up to something, I know you are. Is that why you were sneaking around during the holidays, in that room?” She couldn’t think of anything that mirror might have to do with Nicholas Flamel, though.

“It’s nothing to do with it,” Potter said quietly. “I came across that mirror by accident.”

Aurora consider this for a moment. “You might want to take a look in the Alchemy section. If you tell me why you’re interested, I’ll tell you everything I know.”

“The Alchemy section? But-“

Snape came back through and they shut up promptly. He glared between the two of them. “Potter and Black.” He wore a horrid sneer. “No talking in detention.”

“I’m finished chopping these, sir,” Aurora told him, smiling pleasantly.

“Then you can help Potter scrub cauldrons,” he said. “You are not leaving early.”

She scowled falsely and headed over to the stack of cauldrons by Potter. He caught her eye and looked almost like he was going to smile. “Separately.”

Aurora shook her head and lifted a stack of the cauldrons, carrying them over to her side of the classroom. Scrubbing cauldrons was less satisfying than chopping eels, but she didn’t mind that work too much either, though she did wash her hands thoroughly in the bathroom when she got back.


	14. Loyalty and Family

Her recent letters to her aunt and Uncle weren’t gaining replies. She wrote to Draco’s mother asking if she knew anything, because no one was giving her any information on the progression of the dragon pox, and she was scared of what that meant. Cygnus Black, Draco’s grandfather, died in the middle of January and he disappeared for a weekend and came back acting like nothing had happened at all. Cassiopeia Black, Aurora’s great-great aunt died at the end of the month. She could feel the death happening. It felt like when Arcturus was dying. No one wanted to tell her the truth but she knew the truth and she could feel it unravelling.

The letter came at the beginning of February. The funeral was meant to be held at the family home and Lucretia and Ignatius would be buried together at the Black tomb. The Prewetts protested, but it had been Lucretia’s wish, and Ignatius supported it.

Aurora received a letter from Gringotts the very next day. As the last of the Blacks in name (or at least, of those who weren’t imprisoned) she had come into a fortune she did not want. And she was head of the House now. As it happened, she also inherited several houses. She didn’t know quite why Narcissa Malfoy hadn’t been named head, but apparently it was because she had married, and when she had done so, she became a part fully of the Malfoys. If she’d inherited the Black House, then it would have been in the control of the Malfoys. They were too new money, though they had an awful lot of it. The Black estate must remain with someone who bore its name.

And that was her.

She sat slumped over the letter in her room, stunned into rare silence. Gwen watched her twitchily. “What does it say?”

Aurora shook her head numbly. Lucretia and Ignatius were dead. They’d just died. Maybe she’d known it was coming, some small part of her had felt it, but this was too soon. She was an orphan now, again. Would Narcissa take her in? She didn’t want to live in the same house as Lucius Malfoy, but she had no other blood relatives. Maybe someone of her mother’s family, wherever or whoever they were. She didn’t even know her name to start searching with.

“Well,” she said, swallowing. “Walburga and Orion’s inheritances both went to me. Arcturus’ went partly to me and partly to Lucretia. Cygnus Black’s has gone partly to Narcissa Malfoy and mostly to me. As part of the Black estate, all of Cassiopeia Black’s assets and wealth have reverted to me. And now Lucretia and Ignatius’ estates have been inherited by me, too. And so has... Well, everything.” She swallowed with a lump in her throat as her eyes brimmed with tears. The pain and fear threatened to split her chest in two. “I’m the last of the Blacks.” She wiped tears from her cheeks. Don’t cry. That was always the unofficial Black family motto - apart from toujours pur. “In name, at least.”

She didn’t know what she’d expected Gwen to say. “I’m sorry.” She hadn’t expected that.

“Yeah, well.” She combed through her hair, slammed the letter in a drawer, and dabbed the tears from her eyes. “These things happen.”

“It doesn’t mean they’re alright.”

“It’s life,” Aurora said sharply. “People die, that’s just what happens. It’s fine.” She didn’t want Gwen to see her crying. She didn’t want anyone to see that, and she was determined not to cry. “I’m going for a walk.”

Pulling on her boots, she strode out of the room without another word. It was too much. All of it was just too much. Aurora pressed her lips together tightly, determined not to cry. She had no one now, no one, no family except the Malfoys and her murderous, Death Eater, Blood Traitor, stupid father. She swept through the common room and slammed the door behind her, storming through the dungeons.

“Miss Black.” She didn’t respond to the name. She hated her name coming from his mouth and right now she hated her name regardless. She didn’t want it, not when she was the only one. “Black! Do not ignore me!”

She whirled around, heart pounding furiously. “What?”

Snape’s lip curled in dislike. “Professor Dumbledore has informed me of your situation. Come into my office.”

“No.”

“Black.” His eyes flashed. “In.”

She followed him grudgingly. At least now maybe she could get some of her awful anger out. She spoke with a strained and brittle politeness. “What is it, sir?”

“You have been granted special permission to leave the school to attend the funeral of your aunt and uncle. However, I believe it also falls to you to organise it, at least on your aunt’s behalf.”

She felt the colour drain from her face. She hadn’t even thought of that. She almost said, “I can’t,” but there was no way she was going to say that.

“Can I have this conversation with someone else?” she asked as politely as she could.

Snape sneered. “As your Head of House, this is a matter for me to contend with.” Contend with. She hated the way he phrased it.

“I don’t want you to,” she said back, echoing his tone. She could hear her bitterness but she didn’t care.

“Believe me, Black,” Snape said in disgust, “the feeling is mutual.”

She glared at him as fiercely as she had ever glared at anyone. “Then why are you talking to me? I know you hated my father, you hate my whole family and you hate me, it’s all you ever talk about!” Her hand had gone to her wand, where it trembled. “So get out of my face! This doesn’t involve you!”

“I, most unfortunately, have a duty of care.”

“Yeah, because you’re so caring, sir!” She’d taken her wand out and was pointing it at his face.

“Lower your wand,” he said, dangerously quiet.

“Piss off.”

“Miss Black, watch your tongue! Detention for a month!”

“I don’t care!”

“Lower your wand!”

“No!”

“Expelliarmus!” Her wand went flying out of her hand and she forgot what to do with her body. She crumpled against the wall, and her throat felt raw as she screamed things she couldn’t even remember learning how to say.

At some point, Snape had ended up shouting back, face white and furious. “You are just like your father! Arrogant and dangerous! You ought to be ashamed!”

“Don’t talk about my father! Don’t talk about my family! Don’t you even dare!”

She launched herself across the desk and grabbed her wand from his hand, shaking with hatred and fury and a grief she still didn’t know how to feel. “And you can shove your duty of care up your arse!”

She stormed from the room. She didn’t care what he did or said. She hated him. She hated all of this. She hated it so much she felt like her entire body was going to combust, and she couldn’t stop moving, thrusting her arm out to slam against a wall as she thundered down the corridors. Students jumped out of her way as she passed, not even knowing where she was going as she wound up and down all of the castle’s many staircases, eventually coming out of the castle into the grounds where the cold night kissed her skin. It shocked her and she gasped, trying to drown in the night air.

She started running, sure that if she stayed in one position for too long then she’d fall apart. She didn’t have a destination, but she found herself running down the slope in the direction of the Forbidden Forest. This was wrong. It was so wrong. She wanted to scream and cry and do everything a Black shouldn’t do. She couldn’t do that. She came across a pumpkin patch and ran right through it, kicking the fence and whirling around to gasp, trembling in the cold. There was a small hut in front of her, from which a giant man emerged.

“Oi!” he bellowed. “Who’s there?”

She shuddered. She couldn’t even say her name. Tears blurred her vision as she fell to the ground, shaking. What was she meant to do? To say? When Arcturus had died, she’d had people around her, people who understood and cared. But she felt alone. She was alone. The giant man came over to her, his giant shadow drowning her. “You a student?” She nodded, feeling like she was going to be sick. “What’s yer name?”

It took her a while to speak. “Au-Au-Aurora.” She forced the surname out. “Black.”

The man’s hand closed around her arm and he hauled her to her feet. “Yeah,” he said gruffly, “Dumbledore told me about yeh. Come on, it’s warm inside.”

“No,” she said, wrenching out of his grasp. “No, no. I need to get back to the castle. I - I - I-“ She broke off, crying again, and wiped tears furiously from her cheeks. “I hate this!”

“I know, lass,” the giant man said, steering her inside his little hut. There were three blurry figures inside - Potter, Weasley and Granger. Aurora immediately went to run out again, to be anywhere except with those three, especially when she was in this sort of state. “Clear out, you lot.”

“Hagrid, what-“

“Go on, off wi ye. It’s almost curfew anyway.”

The three of them scurried off like good little Gryffindors. Aurora was eased into a massive armchair. The man who was Hagrid had a massive dog that sat firmly on Aurora’s feet. He handed her a massive mug of tea that she couldn’t drink because she thought she’d be sick if she tried to.

“They’re dead,” she whispered hollowly, finally.

“I know.” She met Hagrid’s eyes. “I lost me dad when I was your age.”

“I’ve already lost my dad.” She shook her head. “I don’t want him anyway.” Stupid, reckless, murderous, Blood Traitor, Death Eater. Her lip wobbled and she almost started crying again.

“But we always want family.” Hagrid nodded sadly to her and clapped a ginormous hand on her shoulder. “Ye don’t have teh talk.”

“Good.” She winced. “I shouted at Professor Snape. I threatened him. Oh, Merlin, I’m going to be in so much trouble.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Hagrid said. “I’ll talk teh Dumbledore for yeh.”

She stared at him, seeing him properly for the first time. He had small, black beady eyes, wore a moleskin coat, and had wild tangles of brown hair and a beard. He was also at least ten feet tall, she thought. He was a very small giant, and a very kind one. “Why are you being nice to me?” she asked bitterly.

He looked taken aback. “Well, I couldn’t very well leave yeh teh freeze out there.” His face softened. “I know what yeh’re going through, Aurora.” It was a sort of comfort that he said Aurora, and not Black. “Yeh’re not alone.”

“Yes I am.”

“Yeh’re not,” Hagrid said fiercely. “Who’re your friends?”

“Draco Malfoy. Pansy Parkinson.” She noticed Hagrid’s less than pleased face, but why should he judge her friendships? She’d met him five minutes ago. “Daphne Greengrass, I think. Gwendolyn Tearston.” That was it really. She felt so suddenly lonely. None of them understood. None of them had lost near every member of their family. None of them were the last of their name.

She knew only one other person in her position and she wasn’t going to talk to Harry bloody Potter about her emotions. Aurora wiped tears from her eyes so that they wouldn’t splash into the tea. Crying over a cup of tea. She sniffled and stood up, heaving Hagrid’s massive dog off of her feet. “I’m sorry for intruding,” she said as politely and evenly as she could. “I can tell you were meant to have a lovely evening.”

“Yeh don’t have ter go.”

“No, I want to. I ought to get back to my common room before I get in trouble for being out of bed.” She swallowed. “Thank you, though, Hagrid.”

He still looked troubled. “I’ll walk yeh up ter the castle. Yeh shouldn’t be out on yer own.”

She let Hagrid escort her back up to Hogwarts Castle, where she left him with a wobbly smile and headed down to the dungeons. Draco was sat in the mostly empty common room, waiting on her. “Aurora,” he said immediately as she got in. “Aurora, Mother just wrote me a letter and told me everything. I’m so sorry.”

She didn’t cry. She wouldn’t. But she let him hug her. It was stiff and awkward because neither of them were very used to hugs, but they managed. She sniffed, leaning her head on his shoulder. “I’m the only one left now. They - I’m meant to - to plan the f-funeral.” She hated how she stuttered.

“I’ll talk to Mother about it,” he promised. “If I can then I’ll make sure you can stay with us, you’re not being taken to some random wizard house. Imagine if they gave you to the Weasleys.” She laughed wetly, weakly.

“That would be terrible.”

Draco patted her shoulder and stepped back, smiling awkwardly. “I, um, I’ve got chocolate if you want some. And we can play wizard’s chess or gobstones.”

He motioned to the table behind him and Aurora could have cried again right then and there. She nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. “Thanks.”

They stayed up late that night, playing chess for hours as the common room emptied. Aurora was still too angry and bitter and sad to sleep, and Draco very politely stayed awake with her. He didn’t let her win, which was good, because she beat him anyway. It was alright for a while but when she got to bed all she could think about was her family, and the funeral, and the empty ache in her chest. She didn’t know where she was going now. She didn’t know how she could go any further. But she was still a Black.

Blacks didn’t cry. Blacks didn’t whine. Blacks didn’t make a fuss, or make a scene. Blacks did as they were told. She wanted to ask about her father, suddenly. She wanted to know, because he was the only thing left. Even if she hated him, so did everyone else in the family.

But Aurora didn’t ask about her father. And she didn’t talk about him either. So she wouldn’t, she told herself. She’d forget it. She was a Black, after all. They endured.

The funeral was held a week and a half later on a suitably cold and rainy day. Gwendolyn had said she’d come if Aurora wanted her to be there, but Aurora didn’t want anyone to be there, not even Draco and Pansy.

It was a quiet occasion anyway, and a somber one. There weren’t exactly many Blacks left. Narcissa came, but not her husband. A brown haired woman with Aurora’s nose was there, too, along with her sandy haired husband and an older teen Aurora didn’t know from Hogwarts, who had bright turquoise hair. The two women looked similar enough to be sisters, but they barely even looked at each other.

There weren’t that many Prewetts either, but Aurora had been in contact with Molly Weasley who had organised the funeral for Ignatius and Lucretia, because Aurora knew there was no way she could. She hadn’t been sure initially, but she knew when she saw the brilliant red hair and the kind crinkle of the woman’s eyes that Molly Weasley was the mother of the Weasleys she knew - Ron and the twins. She had her balding, similarly ginger husband with her, as well as a ginger girl younger than Aurora and a tall boy who might have been a young man, with long hair held in a pony tail.

“You must be Aurora,” she said quietly in the dark grey graveyard. “I’m Molly, dear.”

Aurora nodded silently. She had been quiet for days now, wallowing in the embarrassment of her earlier outburst. Weasley had seen, and Potter and Granger, and though none of them had mentioned it, she hated the fact they knew how she’d reacted. But she forced herself to speak to Molly Weasley. “Thank you, for organising today.”

“Of course,” Molly said kindly. “Ignatius spoke of you often, you know.”

“Really?” She blinked in surprise.

“Yes. He and Lucretia could never have children, but he was overjoyed to have any time with you at all.” Molly smiled kindly, but Aurora noticed the great sadness behind her eyes. She swallowed tightly, and remained silently. The priest would be arriving soon, to lower them into the ground and bury them with a heavy finality. She didn’t want to watch but she knew she had to. After this maybe she’d never have to go to a funeral again. It wasn’t like she had any other family to bury. “You’ll be in second year at Hogwarts?”

“First,” Aurora corrected quietly. “My birthday’s in September, I only just missed the cut off.”

“You’ll know my son, then. Ron?”

Aurora nodded awkwardly. Weasley didn’t like her, not that she’d given him much reason to. “Yeah, I know him. He’s friends with Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. I’m in Slytherin, though. So we don’t really talk. I know Fred and George, too.”

Molly raised her eyebrows. “Is that so? What have they done?”

“They got me out of a bit of trouble with a professor who doesn’t like me much,” Aurora said. “They’re really nice.”

Molly looked very glad, and slightly relieved, to hear so. “It’s good to hear our boys are looking out for others,” she said. “I’ll tell them to keep an eye for you - Ron, too.”

“Oh, no,” Aurora said quickly, feeling slightly sick with embarrassment at the thought of Weasley looking out for her at the insistence of his mother. “That’s alright, really. I’m alright.”

Molly looked rather disapproving. “I’m not so sure that’s true,” she said, her voice gentle. “I know it must be awfully hard-“

“Yeah,” Aurora said shortly. “It is awfully hard, thanks.”

She felt bad being so short with Molly Weasley, but she didn’t like the way she was looking at her like something to be pitied, like a little girl out of her depth. Blacks weren’t pitied. And she refused to be.

The ceremony itself seemed to both drag on forever and never end. Aurora stood alone, watching the last of her family being lowered into the ground, and focused all her energy on trying not to cry. The rest of the world in the graveyard moved on, but she felt detached from it, stuck. With the exception of Narcissa, who didn’t meet her eyes, she didn’t know anyone here. She could tell they were all watching her, even the little Weasley girl. She wasn’t going to cry in front of any of them.

When the time came, she pointed her wand at the twin coffins, and dirt slid over them, sealing them and their cold bodies into the ground forever. The wake was quiet and solemn, and so was Aurora. She sat in a corner on a chair and watched everybody else talking among themselves.

The brown haired woman and her turquoise haired daughter came over at one point. They both liked they were trying very hard to smile, but they couldn’t quite manage it. “You’re Aurora,” the mother said, sitting down at her side. “I’m Andromeda Tonks.”

Aurora blinked. That name wasn’t familiar to her. “I’m sorry?”

“I’m your father’s cousin.” Her eyes darted to a lone blonde head of hair on the other side of the room. “Narcissa’s sister.”

“Oh.” That was the one whose name had been burned off the Black family tapestry. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

Andromeda smiled thinly and her daughter muttered something under her breath. “Yes, the family never did mention me often. Lucretia was good to me, though. And I thought it prudent to be here. We Blacks seem rather poorly represented now.”

“Yeah,” Aurora muttered bitterly. “I’d noticed.”

“I’m Tonks by the way,” said the turquoise haired girl.

“Her name’s Nymphadora.”

“Tonks,” Tonks said firmly. “Please.”

Andromeda rolled her eyes fondly. “She’s never been much a fan of her first name.”

“It’s pretentious,” Tonks said, and Aurora found herself cracking a very small smile. The Blacks all had strange, pretentious names: Andromeda, Nymphadora, Narcissa, Bellatrix, Cygnus, Cassiopeia, Orion, Walburga, Regulus, Arcturus, Lucretia. Sirius. There was a hollow sort of pang in her chest. Compared to all the rest, Aurora’s name was downright normal.

“Yeah.”

“Dumbledore wrote to me about you,” Andromeda said, and Aurora looked at her sharply, surprised.

“He did?”

“Yes. He appeared rather concerned by the lack of guardianship stated in Lucretia’s will.”

“Oh.” She thought she knew where this was going. “Yeah, I know I’m probably meant to go to a family member.” She glanced up at Narcissa, who stood alone by a table with small glasses of win on it. “I thought the Malfoys might...” She trailed off. If they were going to take her in then they would have said so. They would have offered to look after her at Christmas when she had no one else to go to during the holidays. Maybe if Draco kicked up enough of a fuss. But that wasn’t the matter at hand. Dumbledore had written to the Tonkses about her? Why? “Or, you know, I’m almost thirteen. I’d only be away from Hogwarts two months out of the year anyway, which isn’t much.”

Andromeda looked at her kindly. “You have an independence about you,” she said. “Your father was the same.” Her chest felt suddenly tight and Andromeda must have noticed, because she said, “I don’t bring up Sirius to taunt you with, Aurora.”

“I don’t want to talk about him,” Aurora said, like she’d said so many times before. “So, what did Dumbledore say to you?”

“Only that you were in Slytherin, a kind and intelligent girl who might benefit from a - stable family environment.”

“As opposed to what?”

She glanced at Narcissa and she knew what Andromeda meant. There was no doubt that Lucius and Narcissa loved each other, but Aurora knew they had a lot to hide - not that the Blacks didn’t, more that they were better at hiding, and actually cared to hide it - and Lucius could be cruel. Not to his family, but to many, many others, and he had always set her on edge rather, like he was constantly evaluating her. Considering how badly Draco acted sometimes, Aurora couldn’t imagine being in the same house as his father. They were Malfoys, not Blacks, and they had been the ones who served the Dark Lord, while the Blacks had stood alone. They didn’t need anyone. She didn’t need them.

“It is only an offer,” Andromeda said, her voice a little more clipped. “If you would rather stay with someone else, I’d entirely understand. But Dumbledore wanted me to ask, and you are still family.” She looked somewhat uncomfortable as she said, “Your father wanted me to take you in, initially.”

“I don’t really care what my father wanted, thanks,” she said coldly, and got up.

She didn’t know where she was going to go, but she started walking out of the small village hall where the wake was and over the cold, hard ground. She wasn’t angry, or maybe she was, but not in that fiery, furious way she had been before. This was a numb, cold kind of anger, an anger that made her bitter and made her not want to scream or shout or break things in an instant. It made her want to tear things apart slowly, see the threads of life in a blade of grass unravel before her eyes. This anger spread like a web through her chest as she ducked behind a tree, sinking to her knees.

From here she could see most of the graveyard, a cold, frosty and grey expanse of grass and stone walls and headstones. A sort of fog hung over the whole place, an eerie grey mist. Somewhere between life and death.

She plucked a struggling daisy from the ground and plucked the petals off one by one with precision, missing out every second petal so she could return to it. She pulled the tiny leaves from the stem and then separated the stem from the flower head. The petals had made a tiny, sad white pile in the palm of her hand. She blew them away and they scattered into the air, pulled into the mist.

“You’re not alone.” She whipped around sharply. There was a man standing there, or someone that might have been a man once. She couldn’t see his face, for it was shrouded into a smoky grey veil, and the rest of him was cloaked in black, but he did sound like a man. She could see skeletal, almost claw like hands extending from just underneath the sleeve of his cloak. He didn’t feel normal, but he did definitely feel magic. His magic was ice cold like a body that had-

She cut her thoughts off there.

“Many have seen Death,” he said. “Many have tasted it and yet lived.” He wasn’t close enough to touch her, but she felt a nail run down her cheek. Aurora stood up abruptly. “Many would run from him, and few would accept him.”

“I’m sorry,” Aurora said with perfect pureblood politeness. “Who are you?” She was scared - just a bit, mind, not much - but she wasn’t going to show him that.

“I am Death.”

“No you’re not.”

The man who called himself Death chuckled and Aurora knew that was who he really was. “You have thwarted me before, young Miss Black. Yet your family and your history is heavy with my blood.” Something blue-black like ink flowed from his skeletal wrists and over his boney hands. It dripped onto the cold ground where it hissed and spat like acid. “Something about you has... Escaped me. Few have done that. Even fewer have done so of their own skill. There is a boy...” He chuckled dangerously. “But you don’t want to hear of these things. You came here to be angry.”

“I came here to get away from people,” she said clippedly. “That includes you, whoever you are.”

His words replayed in her mind. Something about her escaped him? “You shouldn’t exist. Not by any accounts, any histories. You definitely shouldn’t be alive. And yet you are. You have evaded Death without even knowing. But Death will come for you in the end.”

“I thought you said you were Death.” She tried to look at his eyes, but all she saw was two sunken sockets. “Haven’t you come for me now?”

“Oh, no,” Death crooned. This time he was definitely close enough to scrape his nail down her cheek. It stung, and Aurora was certain he had drawn blood. “Not yet. I want to see what happens.” His voice was low and cold. “No one can evade Death forever, after all.”

He retreated into the mist and he was gone. A watery sun broke through in the sky and Aurora wrapped her arms tightly around herself as she went back to the village hall, feeling more bitter but less alone. Inside, she played the perfect pureblood role. She made small talk with Narcissa who didn’t so much as mention the matter of guardianship, she said hello to Molly Weasley’s daughter Ginny who was worryingly interested in Harry Potter, and she said to Andromeda, “Thank you for your offer. I just need some time.”

Andromeda smiled warily at her. “Speak to Dumbledore about it. The old man has some wisdom in him yet.”

She didn’t want to speak to Dumbledore. He summoned her to his office and she said she’d rather live alone than with someone who wasn’t her family, and even if he tried, she had multiple houses and more gold than he’d ever seen, and there was no way a mere Headmaster would be able to contain her. He hadn’t been happy, but he had let her go - for now. Aurora didn’t delude herself into thinking that was the end of it.

“You could stay with us,” Pansy offered, with a disdainful look at Draco. “If others won’t take you in.”

“I asked Father,” Draco muttered. “But he said no, and I - I can’t very well argue with my father.”

Aurora wanted to say that he could, he so easily could, but she knew she shouldn’t. So she said nothing. Days and weeks passed and she focused on her studies more than anything else, until the memory of the funeral started to fade. Aurora was half certain that the man called Death had been a hallucination. She didn’t say much for a very long while until the day Draco came strutting into the common room looking far too pleased with himself. “What have you been up to?”

“Nothing much,” he smirked. “Just put a Leg-Locker Curse on dear old Neville Longbottom.”

She stared at him. What possible reason- “You attacked Longbottom?” He nodded with a smug smile. “Why?”

“Why? Why? Because he’s a snot nosed little baby, that’s why.”

Her blood boiled unexpectedly. What had Longbottom done? Of all the Gryffindors, of all the people to choose to attack, why did it have to be Neville? He’d already suffered enough because of people like Draco, and people like her. “So you picked on him because he was an easy target?”

“Because I’m better than him.”

“If you really were better than him then you wouldn’t attack someone who couldn’t even defend himself.” She narrowed her eyes at Draco and let the next words, bitter and cold and harsher than she’d intended, slip from her mouth. “You’re pathetic, Draco.”

“I am not!”

“You shouldn’t need to prove yourself to someone you really think is below you. To do so proves nothing except cruelty. And that you’re a show off.”

“As if you aren’t?”

“No,” she said quietly, “not like you are, anyway.”

She got up. “Where are you going?” Draco demanded.

“Library. There’s a book about Alchemy I need to check out.”

She left wordlessly and made her way quickly through the castle in the direction of Gryffindor Tower. The corridors were quiet at this time, which meant she had no one to ask for directions - not that anyone would have given a Slytherin like her directions anyway. She didn’t know what she thought she was doing, only that Draco was being ridiculous and had been acting as such for too long. Neville Longbottom had lost her parents, and she couldn’t help but think it was partially her fault for having been put there by her father. The Death Eaters came for the Aurors who had stood against their lord and for the daughter of the man who had betrayed the Aurors but unwittingly led his lord to his death. Neville had suffered enough, and Draco kept showing off in such vulgar and unnecessary ways. She didn’t know why it got to her so much, but it did, and she was still angry.

She came across Longbottom struggling to hop along the corridor, face red and blotchy with tears and she felt anger prick her heart. What was the point? she wanted to ask Draco. “Neville?” She thought he’d more responsive to his forename and she was right. He turned around too fast, caught sight of her, whimpered and promptly fell backwards.

“G-g-get away!” he shouted feebly as she hurried down thecordidor towards her. “I - I - I mean it, B-Black!”

“Stop blubbering,” she told him sharply, and grabbed his arm to pin him down. “I’m not going to hurt you. Did Draco do this?” He looked terrified. She narrowed her eyes. “Did he?” Neville nodded shakily. “Finite incantatem.” The counter-spell worked well considering she’d rarely used it before. Neville moved his legs apart immediately and sat up sharply.

“W-w-what did you do that for?” he asked, staring at her. He had gone white, and she realised with a start that he was afraid of her. That wasn’t what she’d wanted.

“Draco’s being a prick,” she said in answer, and pulled Neville to his feet. He stumbled a bit before fighting himself. “He shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I’m sorry.”

Neville went red. “Not your fault,” he mumbled.

“It’s someone’s though,” she said, and offered him a weak smile. “I’ll tell him to lay off you, alright? If he tries anything again, you tell me.”

Neville looked like he couldn’t believe what she was saying, and to be honest, Aurora couldn’t either. She didn’t have much of a reason to help him except that... He didn’t have much of a family either. His parents had taken her in shortly, she knew, some time between the death of the Potters and when they were tortured by Death Eaters, by her own cousin Bellatrix. Maybe part of her felt responsible. Maybe part of her just didn’t like seeing Draco showing off and hurting people and being stupid with his arrogance. Maybe she just didn’t like people crying and reckoned someone ought to stop Neville from doing it so often, and knew that cursing him wasn’t the way to go about it.

“Do you understand?” she asked sternly, and Neville nodded. “Good. Did he do anything else?” Neville shook his head and she sighed. “Alright. Do you want me to walk you back to your tower?”

He looked surprised by the offer, but he nodded anyway. It wasn’t a long walk, but Aurora was glad she’d spared him from hopping the way there in the state he had been in. “Here,” she said stiffly, not meeting his eyes. She took out a pink silk handkerchief. “Your cheeks are all covered in tears.”

“Thanks,” Neville muttered, taking it from her.

“Don’t mention it,” she said, and she really meant it. The last thing she wanted was a thank you from Neville Longbottom. They reached a portrait of a very fat lady in a pink dress at which point Neville stopped.

“Um,” he said, “this is the Entrance.”

“Oh, right.” At least it was marked, unlike the Slytherin common room. “Well, have a good night, Longbottom.” He held her handkerchief back out to her, but she shook her head. He’d blown his nose with that thing. “Keep it,” she told him. He blushed, which she hated. “Night.”

Draco wasn’t happy about her intervention and he made sure she knew it. He sat with Pansy in Potions, leaving Aurora to be paired with Crabbe of all people, who melted their cauldron within five minutes. “You idiot,” she scolded him, and he looked affronted.

“You didn’t tell me not to.”

“No, because you’re meant to read the instructions!”

“What do we have here?” Snape asked, swooping down, and her face went red.

“My partner messed up our potion,” she said clippedly. “I’m handling it, sir.”

“This catastrophe cannot be saved.” His eyes glinted. “You will both received zero marks today.”

“We still have plenty of time to-“

“Quiet, Black,” Snape snarled. “You may spend the remainder of the lesson slicing horned slugs. Crabbe, write out the instructions as many times over until we finish this class.”

She was furious, of course, and was now not talking to Draco, Pansy, or Crabbe (not that she’d spoken to him very much before). It was only thanks to Gwendolyn that she attended the Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff Quidditch match. “I want to see it,” she said. “Hufflepuff are meant to be good, and Robin says that if they beat Gryffindor we’ll still have a good chance at winning the Quidditch Cup this year.”

Aurora really didn’t fancy Hufflepuff’s chances at beating Gryffindor when Potter had his stupid Nimbus Two Thousand and was the oh so brilliant boy who lived to be the youngest seeker in a century. But she didn’t say that.

They found spots in the stands with a group of Hufflepuffs, far from Draco or Pansy. Robin Oliphant joined them, and handed Gwendolyn a thick pair of canary yellow gloves. “Stole them from Filch’s office earlier when I was getting my watch back,” he said with a lazy grin. “Peeves is quite a useful distraction when he isn’t trying to dump a Pensieve on your head. Don’t worry, they’re not poisoned.”

“Because you’re the authority on poisons,” Gwen huffed, but she pulled on the gloves anyway, and turned to Aurora. “You know Robin, right?”

“Oliphant,” Aurora said stiffly, nodding at him. They’d never really spoken, but she’d always known he and Gwen got along and he seemed a sensible enough student. He was good at Potions, too, which she appreciated.

“Black.” He looked down at the pitch. “Bit of a day for it, isn’t it? Chilly. Still, at least it isn’t a storm.”

“Maybe if it was, Potter would get blown off his broom again,” Aurora muttered, and Robin laughed.

“I forgot you didn’t like him either.”

“Robin says he’s a show off,” Gwen explained, shaking her head.

“You aren’t wrong.” Aurora smiled. If he thought the same of Potter as she did, maybe he wasn’t quite so bad. “Why did Filch have your watch?”

“Oh, I charmed it to light up and scream anytime a Hufflepuff walked past.” Robin smirked. “Course, he can’t prove I did it. It could just be broken.”

“Why did you do that?”

“I wanted to see if I could. Oh, look, that’s them.”

She didn’t really need Robin to tell her. A massive roar had gone up from the crowd as the fourteen players stepped out onto the pitch. Potter looked even more cocky this time. “I really hope they lose,” she said, and Gwendolyn nodded.

“Me too.”

“Snape’s refereeing,” Robin said. “So they ought to.”

“Snape?” Aurora laughed. She hated him, and he hated her, but if there was anyone he hated more, it was Potter. And he absolutely hated Gryffindor House. “Oh, they’ve got no chance.”

But much to Aurora’s horror, they seemed to have a good chance. In fact, they won. Potter swooped down and caught the Snitch to save the day within five minutes and Aurora swore she had never hated someone more. “Bloody Potter,” she muttered as they left. “I hate him. I really hate him. What is it about him? Does the world just - just bend around him? Or does he just think he’s the centre of the universe and makes everyone else bend around him? I bet he cheats, too, you’ve seen Hermione Granger, that girl he hangs around with! She’s smart for a Gryffindor. There’s no way he can be so good!”

“Right,” Gwen said, with an amused look. “Well, until we can prove it-“

“Hang on,” Aurora interrupted, as Potter caught her eye. “Where the hell’s he going?”

He was marching out of the broomshed with his broom in hand. “I don’t know,” Gwen said. “Maybe he’s going to polish it. Come on, I’m hungry.”

“You two go on ahead.” Gwen looked slightly exasperated but she did as Aurora told her and she and Robin joined the crowd headed to the school.

Quietly and carefully, Aurora hurried after Potter, watching him fly into the Forbidden Forest. Who did he think he was? She ran as fast as she could to the edge of the Forest, where Potter was amongst the low tree branches. He hadn’t noticed her, so she scampered up a nearby tree and swim herself across the thick canopy until she could hear voices. The first was Snape’s, the second Quirrel’s.

“...students aren’t supposed to know about the Philosopher’s Stone, after all.”

Aurora felt like her heart had dropped right to the pit of her stomach. That was why Potter and his friends had been looking for Nicholas Flamel? But why? She could think of a million reasons why someone would want the thing, but why was it relevant right now? “Have you figured out how to get past that beast of Hagrid’s yet?”

“B-b-but Severus,” Quirrel stuttered.

“You do not want me as your enemy, Quirrel.” Snape’s voice made Aurora feel entirely cold. She knew what it was to be intimidated and threatened by this man, yet Quirrel was not taking it nearly as well as she always did.

“I-I don’t know what you mean-“

“You know perfectly well what I mean. And what of your little bit of hocus pocus? I’m waiting.”

“B-b-but I d-d-don’t-“

“Very well,” Snape said. “We’ll have another chat sometime soon. When you’ve had some time to think things over and decide where your loyalties lie.”

Loyalty? That made it sound like Quirrel had to decide to work with Snape, or for him. Presumably their opposition would be Dumbledore - did that mean the Philosopher’s Stone was here at Hogwarts? Surely, if they mentioned Hagrid... A sudden thought struck her and she had to try very hard not to gasp. The third floor corridor. Of course. But why would the stone be here?

Snape and Quirrel both left, and from the sound of the rustling in the tree next to Aurora, Potter was leaving too. She scrambled quickly down, and caught a glimpse of him as he pushed off on his broom. Aurora narrowed her eyes. It was one thing for her to follow him to see what he was up to, but why was he so involved in this? Unless... He wanted the stone? Eternal glory and gold and the power of life. With a jolt in her stomach she realised that, for someone who didn’t understand how the stone truly worked, it could be very tempting. It explained what they’d been up to for so long, maybe even since Halloween.

Still thinking it over, Aurora made her way back to the castle on her own. This was something Draco would be very interested to hear, that Potter was meddling and probably breaking school rules in the process, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to tell him. This was something she wanted to discover herself.


	15. Discovery and Dragon

Researching was something Aurora was very good at, and she already knew a lot about Alchemy, so she had something to work off there. She knew the properties of the philosopher’s stone off by heart, of course, but now she had to figure out what sort of enchantments were protecting it. Presumably the answer lay in the third floor corridor, though she wasn’t quite ready to go there. It wasn’t necessarily the power the stone offered her that was tempting, but the fact that if she could get it and study it, she might be able to do what Nicholas Flamel had not, in his complacency after creating the stone. There was more to Alchemy than only the stone, and the prolonging of life. Alchemy was like Transfiguration and Potions; it was about change and transformation. But it was also about life and death, and Aurora couldn’t help but be intrigued by that, especially after what Death had said to her at the funeral.

She still got chills thinking about that. Death comes for everyone in the end. It was true, she couldn’t argue with that, but she still didn’t like it. The Philosopher’s Stone would let her stay alive forever if she used it to make the Elixir of Life, but what she really wanted to do was what no wizard had ever done before. She wanted to bring someone back to life.

But there was another issue with the Philosopher’s Stone. Which was that she was becoming rapidly certain someone else was trying to steal it, which put her on a deadline. Potter and his friends seemed to be trying to stop whoever was trying to steal it - and they certainly seemed to think it was Snape, a rational conclusion to come to - which meant they would also try to stop her. They wouldn’t stand a chance against Snape if it came to it, but while Aurora was confident in her magical abilities, three on one weren’t great odds for her. She’d have to be sneaky. Thankfully, she was a Slytherin.

The first task she had to complete on her list was to find out what was guarding the stone. She knew already that Hagrid had put some animal there, and Quirrel had done some enchantments. Presumably the other teachers had too, and Dumbledore. That would be tricky to manage, but if she could find out what she was up against and prepare, she would stand a chance.

She only wanted to study the stone, she kept telling herself it. Not use it. She wanted to make her own, or something similar, and then it would be her name that was famous, and not for reasons it already was. Better reasons than those.

“Robin,” she said curiously one night in the common room, when she was sat with him and Gwen rather than Draco and Pansy. “You know how you said you got into Filch’s office? What exactly did you do?”

“Oh, I just asked Peeves to throw a filing cabinet down the stairs,” he said. “Worked like a charm, and no one suspected a thing because Peeves is always doing things like that. Why, what are you trying to do?”

“Nothing,” she said, with a smile that said everything. Maybe she wouldn’t use Peeves, he was dreadfully unreliable, but maybe Moaning Myrtle, the ghost that haunted the girls’ bathrooms. She cried a lot and flooded the bathroom entirely of her own accord.

Gwen shook her head, watching Aurora’s thoughts. “As long as it’s not a plot to get Potter expelled.”

“No,” she scoffed. “We’re not quite at that point yet.”

A letter came at the end of the month detailing her inheritance as outlined in the respective wills of Lucretia and Ignatius Prewett, Cygnus Black, and Cassiopeia Black. All in all she had access to five different vaults at Gringotts, which she had decided she was going to keep separate but all in her name, as a security measure. Their total monetary holdings came to around ten million galleons, which was an awful lot for Aurora, who hadn’t the faintest idea how to use any of it. For now it would remain in the vaults until she had a use for it, and she was going to establish a smaller personal vault of her own with everyday access. She also seemed to have an awful lot of jewellery which hadn’t been priced but that she imagined would be very expensive. Once she got to the Summer she was going to go through it all and determine what she wanted to keep with her and what would remain in the vaults for the time being.

In addition, she had inherited seven properties across Britain - 12 Grimmauld Place in London, Black Manor which was Ignatius’ home, in Cornwall, The Carrick Estate in Anglesey, Silver House in Edinburgh, 17 Thywell Lane in Cardiff, Arbrus Hill in Norwich and 13 Ludon Road in Kensington - as well as two in France, one in Italy and, to her surprise, one in Russia. With this also came a total of three house elves, none of whom she had any use for. She called them to her and told them to remain together at Grimmauld Place, as she didn’t think Kreacher would stand moving anywhere else, but the other two house elves - Tilly and Dippy - were younger and seemed less... Insane.

It was a lot to take in and a lot to deal with, so Aurora found herself putting off much of the paperwork and formalities. Since there was only one other living, free Black - Narcissa - all of Aurora’s assets had been put into her own name and the age restrictions taken off. Now she had a lot to handle, as Head of the Most Noble and Most Ancient House in all of Magical Britain.

She set her mind to the Philosopher’s Stone instead, because being the last of the Blacks felt like far too much responsibility that she hadn’t been properly prepared for. Before she went any further she would have to find out what was in the third floor corridor.

Persuading Moaning Myrtle to cry and flood the bathroom was not hard at all. All Aurora had to do was throw a book - the Standard Book of Spells, Grade Four, that she had snuck off of a Hufflepuff and couldn’t feasibly be traced back to her without a lot of lucky guess work - at Myrtle’s head and she went wild. Filch hurried in five minutes later with his cat and Aurora was free to explore as she saw fit for a little while.

She made a beeline for the third floor of course. There was no one about, seeing as it was against the rules, and so there was also no one to stop Aurora. It was rather a flaw in Dumbledore’s plan, she thought. He had been very unsubtle about the third floor, and that made her confused. Why had he pointed it out? Unless he wanted someone to go there. But why?

All of this confused her as she crept along the corridor, and whispered, “Alohomora,” to unlock a cupboard door. It sprang open, to her delight, and Aurora slipped silently inside. She was greeted immediately by a blast of hot, disgusting breath. Dog breath.

Trying not to gag, she looked up, and her heart tumbled into the pit of her stomach. There was a giant, black, drooling, three headed dog standing right on top of her. “Bleeding Merlin,” she whispered, just as the dog roared at her. She bit back a shriek and dodged to the side, hand going to her wand. She didn’t see anything that was like the Philosopher’s Stone here, nor any other door that might take her elsewhere.

The dog bent down as if to try and bite her head off and she lunged out of the way just in time, scrambling against the wall. Her keen eyes scanned the room. There - the dog was standing atop a small trapdoor. That must take her to wherever the stone was. She made an attempt at running closer, but the dog raised a giant paw and slammed her into the wall. Gasping for air, she felt the world spin for a moment as the dog came closer, breath hot against her skin. Her heart hammered as she forced her eyes open, and in a split second, made a run for the door. She slammed it open and shut, whispering an urgent “Colloportus,” as she did so. The dog’s cries of frustration were muffled against the thick stone walls as Aurora darted back along the corridor, downstairs and towards the common room.

At least she knew what the beast was now. She just had to find out how to get past it, and then what the other safeguards were.

Draco, Pansy and Gwendolyn were all very interested to know what Aurora was working on when she disappeared to the library every night, but she didn’t tell them. She wanted to keep her work to herself until such time as it was complete, or at least suitably successful that she could brag about it. Draco appeared highly affronted by Aurora’s silence, and begged her on multiple occasions to just tell him what she was up to.

“I’ll tell Snape you’re up to something,” he threatened.

“No you won’t,” she said, quite calmly. “Because if you do, I’ll tell your mother what mark you got on your History of Magic Essay last week.”

It was a sufficiently bad mark that Draco indeed kept his mouth shut about Aurora’s shady activities. After combing through the library’s substantial collection of books on magical creatures, Aurora remembered a certain myth of a three headed dog, and turned urgently to the Greek Legend section. It was rather small, but she picked out the word ‘Kerberos’ and immediately grabbed the book, hurrying to a table to read.

Her position was regrettable. At the table just opposite, Potter was sitting with Weasley and Granger, the two boys grumbling about revision while Granger appeared to be drawing up study schedules for them. Aurora had to laugh. First year marks didn’t account for anything really, so long as you didn’t fail, and Aurora wasn’t too worried. She would do some reading over and organisation of her notes starting a fortnight or so before the exams, and she knew she had practical work handled for everything except perhaps Herbology, so it was of little concern. Besides, Alchemy was much more interesting than any of her subjects - except perhaps Transfiguration. Potions was quickly falling to last place in her mind.

She found the answer to subduing the Kerberos quickly. All she had to do was play a nice tune, and thankfully, she had been taught violin to a relatively high standard for her age. She hadn’t played in months, what with one thing and another, but she was fairly certain that the violin was at Black Manor. When the time came she would merely have to ask one of the House elves to fetch it for her.

Now she had to find out what the other professors had set up. Professor Sprout, she imagined, had put in place something with plants, perhaps something that might trap someone. She jotted this down in her notes, and considered Professor McGonagall. She knew she was an Animagus, but doubted she would be guarding the stone as a tiny cat. Perhaps some form of riddle or puzzle, then. Transfiguration was an awful lot of puzzlework when it came down to it, and had to be very precise, especially when considering its theory. With Flitwick she considered similar challenges, though it occurred to her that perhaps the teachers had enchanted a form of guard, rather than making whoever tried to get through perform their own enchantment. Maybe Aurora would have to unpick the enchantments rather than fight them; she made a note to work on counter spells.

Perhaps Quirrel would have similar enchantments. Or maybe even dealing with a dark creature. He was a rather rubbish teacher, and as a result Aurora had had little experience of fighting dark creatures or of duelling. She’d have to teach herself then. Maybe she’d bring along some poisons, too, if she could find somewhere to brew them. It certainly couldn’t hurt.

Now, Snape. He would be the worst, she was sure, and so she was determined that she would get past his enchantment, if no other. Even though she had no intentions of bragging of her achievements, outwitting her most hated professor would certainly give her a sense of satisfaction.

In the middle of April, while Aurora was no further forward in her work, Draco presented a piece of information that Aurora thought could prove deeply helpful. He came back in the early evening looking quite delighted with himself. “Well,” he said, dropping into a seat next to Aurora and shooing Gwen and Robin out of the way. “He’s done it now.”

“Who?” Aurora asked, surprised as she glanced up from her book; Moste Potente Potions, hidden within the cover of Thirteenth Century Magical Agriculture.

“Potter, of course,” Draco said. “And Weasley and the Mudblood-“

“Her name is Granger,” Aurora corrected, and Draco nodded.

“Yes, yes, I know. Anyway, Granger. And that oaf they’re friends with, Hagrid. They’ve got a dragon.”

“No!” Aurora stared at him, quite aghast. Was Potter really so arrogant as to think he could flout such a major rule as not breeding dragons? Or that he could manage one? “What an idiot!”

“I know,” Draco said breathlessly. “He’s an arrogant prat, But we know what they’re doing, and they saw me. They know I know. We’ve got this over them. Any little move they make, we can go to Dumbledore.” Aurora found herself smiling. Wouldn’t this be the perfect way to get all the information she could out of Potter and his friends. “Are you with me?”

She smirked at Draco, feeling a quiet, sneaky excitement grow in her chest. “Of course I’m with you.”

She made sure over the next few days that her quiet face was taunting them just enough that they knew she was onto them. On Monday evening, she managed to catch Potter returning from a Quidditch practice, slipping into step beside him. “So, what do you know about the Philosopher’s Stone then?”

He went completely white and she smirked in satisfaction. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m not an idiot, Potter. That’s why you were asking about Nicholas Flamel, that’s what you three keep whispering about in class. I know you think Snape’s after it, that’s why you followed him. And after hearing that conversation, you’re probably right.”

“You heard it too?” Potter looked indignant. “Wait, did you follow me?”

“Yes. Don’t look so annoyed about it, I did you a favour telling you where to look for information on Flamel.” She raised her eyebrows, smirking, and leaned a little closer, looking down her nose at him at just the right angle for it to be intimidating. “So. What do you know?”

“Why do you care?” Potter asked angrily.

“Why shouldn’t I care? It’s one of the most famous and powerful artefacts in the world.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You’re working with him.”

She almost laughed. “Him? Snape?” Potter nodded. “I never knew Gryffindors could be quite this stupid. Haven’t you seen how he treats me in class?” His eyes told her that he had. “No, I’m not working with Snape. We Slytherins aren’t all in cahoots together to destroy your perfect Gryffindor world.”

“You and Malfoy are pretty chummy.”

“Draco is my oldest friend,” she said tightly, ignoring how strained that friendship seemed to have become at times. “And he’s hardly trying to destroy your world.”

“He's horrid. He treats Neville-“

“I know how he treats Neville,” Aurora said, voice deliberately and dangerously quiet as she cut him off. “I’ve told him not to, and did Neville tell you who took the Leg-Locker Curse off him?” Potter didn’t say anything but she knew the answer was yes. “This isn’t the point here, Potter. I asked you what you know about the stone, and about what’s guarding it.”

“You do want the stone!” Potter said furiously, recoiling from her.

“I won’t lie. I want to see it, and study it. I don’t want to use it, though. And even I did, that wouldn’t make me a bad person.” She looked intently at him. If anyone could understand her desires to do with life and death, it was him. But she wasn’t going to start telling Potter her darkest intentions. “You know,” she said, “I do wonder about that mirror. How it shows you what you want. Do you know anyone who, perhaps, really, really wanted a dragon?”

Potter froze. She knew she’d scared him. She had no intention of telling tales or getting Hagrid in trouble, seeing as he had only ever even nice to her, and she didn’t really want Potter and his friends in trouble for breaking the law, but he didn’t have to know that. And she was sure that he didn’t. “We don’t know anything,” he told her heavily at last. “That’s the truth.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Well then I don’t know what you want me to say.” He turned on her with his massive, pleading green eyes, and she was momentarily shocked. “Please, please don’t get Hagrid into trouble.”

She didn’t want to get Hagrid in trouble, nor did she want to outright lie and say that she was going to, but she also couldn’t lose her leverage. She considered Potter carefully. “I won’t,” she told him. “But I won’t have such reservations about you, Potter. Hagrid could be entirely innocent and ignorant in this. You, however, seem to get yourself into trouble an awful lot. You’re always in the limelight. Wouldn’t a dragon fit your imagine perfectly?” She grinned at him. “Who would be surprised if you were caught with a dragon?”

“You wouldn’t,” he said, rather boldly for someone who looked like they were about to pass out.

“Wouldn’t I? What do you know about me, Potter?” She almost regretted asking.

“I know your dad’s a murderer,” he said and her stomach dropped. Stupid, reckless, murderous, lunatic, Death Eater, Blood Traitor, scum of the blood, disgrace to the Black name, foolish boy. “And a Death Eater, and that he went to Azkaban. Your family’s full of Dark wizards and you’re the last of them now. I bet there are things you’re hiding that are far worse than a dragon.”

Her mind went instantly to Death, his words, and his promise. She glared at Potter and asked him softly, “Do you really want to take that risk?”

Potter looked alarmed. “You can’t tell anyone anything. If you tell Snape-“

“There’s more chance of me waltzing with McGonagall.”

Potter swallowed. “There’s a three headed dog, and that’s all we know. We don’t even know how to get past it. Just... Please don’t get Hagrid in trouble.”

She knew he was telling the truth, but she wouldn’t let him off the hook entirely. “Alright,” she said eventually. “But if you find out anything more, you tell me, Potter. And if I find out you aren’t completely honest with me, I promise you, Hagrid’s dragon will be the least of your problems.” She made to leave, then stopped herself, turning around. “Oh, and don’t tell Granger and Weasley about this, will you? I’ll know if you do.” To her delight, he looked like he believed her. “The details of this conversation are strictly between us. Potter and Black.”


	16. The Stone

It seemed Potter had kept his promise; at least, Aurora hadn’t had any angry Gryffindors getting in her face about why she threatened their golden boy. But Gwen had noticed something was up. “You keep looking at Potter,” she said in their dormitory when they were getting ready for bed. “And he keeps looking at you, too.”

“Does he now?” Aurora asked innocently, breezily.

Gwen raised her eyebrows with a mischievous smile. “Yup. What’s up with it?”

“Nothing.” Aurora laughed easily. “He’s a prat.”

Gwen was grinning. “I don’t think it’s nothing. No one looks at the same person that often without it meaning something.”

Aurora knew exactly what she meant, and she almost laughed at how wrong she was. “Gwen, the implications of what you’re saying disgust me. If you must know, I’m blackmailing him and his friends.”

That wiped the smile off Gwen’s face. “You’re doing what? Why?”

She shrugged. “They have information that I could use. I saw - well, heard - an opportunity to get that information and I took it. Don’t worry,” she added, seeing the rather faint look on Gwen’s face, “I’m not up to anything bad, Gwen.”

She didn’t look like she fully believed Aurora. It stung more than she had expected, or cared to admit. After a long moment, Gwendolyn sighed. “Is this to do with what you’re always reading about these days?”

“Maybe.”

“Tell me!” Gwen pleaded. “If it’s that big that you’re blackmailing Potter, I want to know!”

“No,” Aurora said, giggling just a tiny bit. “But I promise, when I am ready to tell people, you’ll be the first person I tell.”

“Can you at least tell me what you’re blackmailing Potter with?” Gwen looked genuinely interested as to that piece of gossip.

“Our deal was negotiated on the basis that I would keep the information to myself,” Aurora said clippedly.

“Oh, Aurora, please!”

“You’re far too much of a gossip.”

“Only to you!” Aurora gave her a withering look. “And to Robin, but he doesn’t count! I just collect gossip.”

“I’ll tell you at some point,” Aurora promised. “But I can’t right now.”

Gwen pouted. “I’ll get it out of you.”

“No you won’t.”

Of course, Gwendolyn’s interest only made Aurora more intensely and deliberately secretive. It was fun watching Gwen try to sneak a peek at the Alchemical charts in her book, the diagrams of various dark creatures, and the spell instructions for those she was learning.

Draco was similarly interested in Aurora and Potter’s strange new way of interacting with each other. “He’s looking at you again,” he hissed during Potions, when Snape was harassing a Gryffindor instead of her. “Don’t you want to know what he’s up to?”

“He isn’t up to anything,” Aurora said brittly.

“He looks suspicious. I still think we should tell on them about that dragon.”

“And I think we shouldn’t,” she whispered. “Or we should bide our time, at least.”

Draco scowled and ground some porcupine quills. “You’re no fun.”

“On the contrary,” Aurora told him, “I’m waiting for fun.”

At the end of class, she sent Potter a significant look and dragged him into an empty classroom, much to the outrage of Weasley and Granger, who only backed down when Potter told them to. “Well?” she demanded, sitting on a desk while he stood. She was looking down at him, expectant.

“We don’t know anything more,” Potter said.

“Oh, really?”

“Really, Black. I don’t know.”

“And Granger?” she asked. If any of them had figured out what lay between the dog and the stone, it would be Hermione Granger.

“None of us know. But Ron and Hermione are starting to get suspicious about what’s going on.”

“Yes, because you’re entirely unsubtle,” Aurora snapped. “Everyone’s noticed you looking at me it’s getting rather annoying having to come up with an explanation.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Is there really nothing you’ve found out?”

“No,” Potter said again. “I do know what our deal is. I’ll tell you, I just... Don’t know.”

“Well, find out then.” She made a sound of frustration. It seemed if she wanted anything done, she would have to do it herself. “Go, Potter.” He gave her a searching look. “What?” Aurora snapped.

“Nothing. I just don’t get why you want the stone.”

“I don’t want it,” she said. “I’ve already given you my explanation. Now go, Potter. And at least try to be subtle.”

Armed with a violin and her wand, Aurora planned to make her first attempt past the Kerberos on Sunday evening after dinner, when most students would return to their common rooms and the professors were generally on a lower alert. With Gwen sworn to silence and ready to plead ignorance, Aurora headed out of the dungeons and used a secret passage she’d uncovered earlier to sneak to the third floor corridor unseen. She couldn’t hear anyone, but she waited a few minutes anyway before she stepped out and hurried silently along the corridor to the door from before.

She let herself in and locked the door behind her, just in case. The Kerberos snarled and growled at her, but she had noticed it was chained - likely so it didn’t escape, though she wasn’t sure how it had gotten in in the first place - and remained just out of its reach. It’s teeth snapped inches from her shoulder but didn’t touch her as she raised her violin to under her chin and began to play. It took only a few seconds for all three heads to droop and for gentle snores to fill the room. Grinning, but continuing to play, Aurora made her way to the trapdoor and kicked it open. Sure enough, there was what looked like a tangle of plants underneath her. She beamed, and jumped down, keeping a very tight grin on her violin and bow.

It seemed like she was falling forever. Then her legs were grabbed by some tendrils, tugging her down. She stopped herself from screaming as she landed roughly in amidst the plant’s thick, black stems. They crept over her and the violin, and Aurora cursed as she quickly used a reduction spell on it, stowing it in her pocket and buttoning it tightly. The plant was still creeping around her, tightening around her shoulders and legs. She was starting to panic, her pulse racing furiously.

Think, think, think. It seemed to be trapping her, ensnaring her - snare. Of course! Professor Sprout had already taught them about Devil’s Snare, and they hated light. “Lumos!” she cried, sending up a great beam of golden light into the ceiling.

It had exactly the desired effect. The Devil’s Snare seemed to recoil, unwind from around her, and she slipped down to land on the floor beneath. That was two down, Merlin knew how many to go.

In front of her was a door. It seemed like the only logical way to go. Bracing herself for an attack, Aurora eased it open and was confronted by what she thought at first were birds. But when Aurora looked closer, she realised they weren’t birds, but levitating keys with wings. Clearly they had been charmed. This was Flitwick’s work then. On the other side of this long room was a very old looking door.

At first she thought she might have to stop the keys from flying, but then she spotted the broomstick by the door. She hurried over to it, shielding herself from the wings with her arms, and paused as she grabbed the handle. “Alohomora.” The door didn’t budge, but it was worth a try. Keeping someone stranded in a room with attacking keys would be a good idea so long as there was another way out for those who knew it. But no, she did have to catch the key. But which one? There were hundreds.

It would have to be iron, she thought, examining the lock. Probably old, and either very simple in design or very elaborate. And if she couldn’t find the right one, then she would have to keep trying until she eliminated all other options.

Taking a deep breath, Aurora mounted her broom and took off. This was an awful lot of work to study an old stone, and she tried to imagine Draco and Pansy’s reactions if they knew what she was doing. They’d laugh, but to her this was so much more than an old stone. This was a chance to know, and learn, and make a name for herself, even if it took ages. It was far too big an opportunity for herself.

She didn’t know how long it took before she managed to grab the correct key, because she tried dozens of them. Some had hit her, and she knew her arm would hurt in the morning, but now she knew the correct key and she memorised its shape, form and colour. Removing the stone would get her in far too much trouble, so she would have to return again. Now she knew what she was facing, though, it wasn’t too bad.

She slipped through the door and was confronted by a massive chess board. Aurora blinked in surprise, assessing the situation. She chanced trying to cross the room, but the chess pieces immediately turned on her. She’d have to play, then. Aurora knew she was good at chess, but if this had been set by a professor then she thought it would be enchanted to be excellent, and she wasn’t sure she could beat a professor.

She took the place of the king. So long as she won, she was the least likely piece to have to be sacrificed. And if she lost... Well, that would just be terrible in general. Maybe she should have told someone where she was going.

Arcturus had played chess with her many times. She ought to do well here, she told herself, as she started commanding her pieces into position. The game took ages, and every time a piece swung at another she winced. This was starting to feel like a truly terrible idea, but she couldn’t very well turn back now. She had to believe she could do it. “Knight to E4.”

The knight on her right slid across the board, and she noticed a near fatal mistake. If her opposition moved their castle, they would be able to check her, and she didn’t know what else she could move to put between herself and it. She swore under her breath as the castle moved, and her heart picked up. She really didn’t want to get murdered by an enchanted chess piece. Looking around, she tried to see who could get her out of this position. If she went left she would be in the line of a bishop, and the same if she went right. But she had to have a piece. Her eyes latched onto her queen. No. But it was the only way.

Losing her queen would put her at a great disadvantage, but it didn’t mean a straight up loss. And it was her only a chance. She ordered the queen to move in front of her and it did so obligingly. The castle slid to knock the queen out of place; dust clouded over Aurora, and she coughed, moving forward to blast the castle to pieces and take its place.

She had to be smarter now. She was at a severe disadvantage. She wasn’t totally sure how she managed it, but she managed to juggle a dwindling supply of pawns and get one across to the other side, replacing her queen, which came easily to her side. And then, three moves later, she had a castle and a bishop in a good enough position that she could slide the queen along between them. She smirked. “Checkmate.”

Her queen took the king and smashed it apart. Aurora grinned, head held high, as she swanned across the room and into the next, only to have her head almost taken off her shoulders. She leapt back, slamming the heavy door. She knew that smell. That was a troll.

Great. She hadn’t fought it on Halloween like Potter and his friends had, but they’d managed to fend it off, and she liked to think she was a better witch than them. So she braved herself and shoved the door open again, ignoring the troll stench, and made a run to the other side.

The troll didn’t like that, which she’d counted on. She ducked when it swung its club and grabbed on tightly. The troll paused momentarily to stare at this strange little human thing at the end of its club, and that was all the time she needed. “Confundus,” she whispered. It wasn’t particularly strong given her age and the size of the troll, but it was enough to let her run along the length of its club and arm, withdrawing a small vial of a smoky grey potion from her pocket. A Draught of Living Death. It wouldn’t last long like it would on a human, but it would keep the troll knocked out long enough for her to get away. It was just starting to come back to itself when she tipped the vial down its throat.

For a second nothing happened. Then the troll shuddered and collapsed in a heap on the floor. Aurora almost fell over as it did so, just managing to keep herself upright and dash to the next door.

This room was strange. Nothing stood there but a long wooden table with a collection of potions on it, in a variety of sizes and shapes. When she stepped into the room proper, fires sprang up along either wall, sealing her in. Well, that stopped any chances of her going back now, not that she had been going to.

On the table was a roll of parchment with a riddle on it. Aurora grinned. She was rather good at riddles, she thought. Better than most witches, anyway. It didn’t take her long to figure out, and she took the small, middle potion. She really hoped it wasn’t poison, but when she sniffed it, it didn’t smell like one. Nervously, she raised the bottle to her lips and drank it. It burned the back of her throat as it went down like whisky, and then it cleared and cooled. She walked forwards towards the flames and while she could feel them, they didn’t burn. That was a success.

The next thing she knew, she was in a high-ceilinged, round room. There was nothing like the stone in there, that she could see, but her eyes fell on the mirror from Christmas. Her heart fell. What was it doing here?

As it was the only thing about, she made an instinctive move towards it, but paused. She didn’t want to see what the mirror had shown her last time. She didn’t want to admit that it might be right. She didn’t want to see her father - her stupid reckless Blood Traitor Death Eater foolish boy father.

Maybe the mirror would show her the stone. That was what she was there for after all, it was what she wanted. There was doubt heavy in her stomach as she advanced to stand in front of the mirror.

All she saw was herself holding the stone in her hands, but it wasn’t there in real life. Shadowy figures moved behind her, too indistinct and smoky for her to really make out, and she moved closer to the mirror, pressing her hands against the cold glass. “Please,” she said quietly.

The image in the mirror didn’t do much as move. “Come on,” she muttered, “you stupid thing.”

Maybe she had to get through the mirror, but how? She didn’t know any spells to get through solid glass, though she really should have thought of that. “I want the stone,” she said to the mirror, which did not respond at all.

She shoved at the mirror, and earned only a sore shoulder for her troubles. “Excuse me!” She kicked it, and though there was a very small crack at the bottom of the glass, nothing else happened. Aurora reached her hands out as though to cup the stone’s fake reflection, but met only cold and solid glass.

She huffed, and sat down. At least she could see it, even if she couldnt hold it in her hands. It was beautiful. Even in the mirror she could see gentle golden light shifting like waves over the ruby red of the stone. There wasn’t much she could analyse or do with only an image, but she did write down a detailed description and draw some diagrams, looking at the cut of the stone and the way its centre seemed to pulse. That was interesting. What was causing it to do that? Was it merely a trick of the light? It was still a mirror, Aurora reminded herself. Mirror images were always somewhat distorted.

There wasn’t very much more that she could get out of an image in a mirror. Aurora tried again to take the stone out, but nothing worked, so she packed up her things and made to leave - except there was no door.

“Shit.” Granny Walburga would have taken her tongue out for that; Arcturus would have told her off in a way that made her too disappointed in herself to never say it again; Aunt Lucretia would have scolded her within an inch of her life.

There was no door. She was an absolute idiot. Of course there was no door. What kind of person would put that many enchantments on the journey to get to somewhere and then put a door in the room anyway? She was an idiot. An actual idiot. She was going to die in this stupid room. She really should have told Gwen where she was going - or someone anyway.

Oh, Merlin, she was an idiot. What would Aunt Lucretia have said? She would absolutely have said that Aurora was an idiot, and she would have been absolutely right.

“Okay,” Aurora told herself, resisting the urge to punch the stupid mirror. “Think.” There had to be a way out, because Dumbledore would have had to come down here at some point, too. Except Dumbledore probably had a lot of different ways of getting around. Oh Merlin, she really was never going to get out of here.

She looked back in the mirror with a glare, and then recoiled in shock as the image changed. There was now a door behind her. “Excuse me?” She turned around sharply and saw nothing there. Well done, mirror, she thought bitterly. Bloody prick. She looked back at it and then behind her where the door was meant to be and huffed loudly. It wasn’t like she had anything to lose.

She strode over to the stone wall, glared at it, and grabbed where she thought the door handle would be. It sprung open, much to her shock, and she broke into a relieved grin. She looked back at the mirror, which twinkled in the light mischievously. “Stupid mirror,” she muttered, slamming the door behind her and running back to the dungeons. She’d have to come up with something else to trick the mirror if she wanted to get the stone itself, but that was a matter for another day. Right now she just wanted to get back without anyone noticing her.

“You’re back,” Gwendolyn said relievedly when she entered their room. “Thank God, I was worried, I was almost going to talk to Parkinson!”

“Well I’m glad you didn’t,” Aurora said, flopping down onto her bed. Stella yowled and leapt away to sit with Gwendolyn. “Traitor.” She tugged her boots off. “Ugh, that was a total waste of time!”

“Oh no,” Gwen said with a sympathetic smile. “What was it?”

She debated telling Gwendolyn for a minute, but she didn’t. “Doesn’t matter. I got out alright and no one even noticed.” She smiled proudly.

“I can’t believe you,” Gwen muttered, shaking her head.

“Yeah you can,” Aurora said, and grinned. “I’ll tell you eventually. Promise.”


	17. Detention in the Forbidden Forest

Aurora had intended to get Potter to help her trick the mirror. He was exactly the sort of person who would be some stupid ‘good of heart’ or ‘pure of soul’ enough to get given the stone by it. But Draco seemed intent on messing that up for her.

“You are not going to tell on them,” she told him sternly when he came into the common room telling her, Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle all about the letter he’d found between Weasley and his brother, who worked with dragons.

“Why not?” Draco said. “You said we’d bide our time, and this is the perfect opportunity to get them expelled!” He sneered. “Don’t you want to see Potter kicked out once and for all?”

Not really, Aurora thought. Of course it was only because she wanted to use Potter, not because she cared a jot what happened to him. “Yeah, Aurora,” Pansy said, frowning at her. “Why are you so defensive of Potter?”

She gave a derisive laugh. Gwen, who had been playing gobstones with Robin nearby, glanced up at her concernedly. It must have been too high pitched; Gwen caught onto behavioural subtleties like that, ones which Aurora didn’t even know she had. “I’m hardly defensive of him,” she said, sneering. “But deliberately getting him expelled will put us in Dumbledore’s line of judgment.”

“Yeah, except we won’t be trying to smuggle an illegal dragon out of the school,” Draco said, shaking his head at her. “Trust me, Dumbledore will have a lot more problems than us, Aurora.”

She huffed. This wasn’t a battle she was going to win, she could see that. But her agreement with Potter was dependent on her not blabbing to any teachers. Maybe she could feign ignorance, if Draco did it. He would have done so anyway, if she didn’t interfere. “You’re right,” she said, because he was, even if his agenda didn’t suit hers. “I suppose it’s now or never, isn’t it?”

Draco’s smile lit up his face in a horrible way. It took Aurora back somewhat, to see him so delighted at the prospect of getting Potter expelled. Part of it didn’t sit well with her, but it wasn’t like she wanted Potter here anyway. It shouldn’t bother her that Draco was happy with such a prospect, and yet to see her friend delighting in something that would hurt someone... It was strange, but she didn’t really like it. “I’ll tell McGonagall,” Draco said.

“Why not Snape?” was her first question.

“He won’t listen,” Draco told her. “And besides, McGonagall means more to them, doesn’t she? They won’t care what Snape says and Dumbledore would paint any punishment he gave them as biased. But with McGonagall, he can’t. Also, I checked, and I’m fairly certain the only people who can expel students are the Headmaster and their Head of House, and that’s McGonagall.” The fact that Snape was one of the two entrusted with the privilege of getting to expel Aurora made her suddenly nervous. Something gave her the feeling he would delight in that even more than Draco delighted in getting Potter expelled.

“Good,” Aurora said, getting up. “At least you appear to have thought this through somewhat.”

“Where are you going?” Pansy asked.

“I have to study,” Aurora told her. “We don’t even have a month until our exams.”

“You are such a bore,” Draco told her, and Aurora smirked.

“At least I have my brains, Draco, dear.” She winked and he rolled his eyes.

“Fine. Crabbe and Goyle will continue this discussion.”

“What about me?” Pansy asked, and Draco waved a hand.

“You can go and study too, I don’t need your help.”

Pansy looked like she was going to slap him, but she just sniffed. “You’re a prat anyway. I’m going to sit with Millie.”

She flounced away, leaving Aurora to grin at Draco, who smiled back. “You know you don’t really need to study?” he said. “It’s only first year, and you’re more than brainy enough.”

“Let’s just hope the same can be said for you,” Aurora said, and smirked as she turned and went back to her room to sleep.

She hadn’t realised Draco’s plan was to tell Professor McGonagall in the middle of the night, but when she couldn’t sleep that night she went through to the common room in search of a new book to read, and saw him trying to sneak out.

“Draco,” she hissed. “What in Merlin’s name are you doing?”

“Going to tell McGonagall of course.”

She gaped at him. “Are you mad? Get back here!”

His eyes widened and he ducked out of the common room before Aurora could stop him, giving her no choice but to take off her socks, pray she didn’t step in anything foul, tighten her dressing gown and scramble after him. “Draco Malfoy, you idiot, get back here right now!”

“And let Potter get away with it? No chance, Aurora.”

“You’re such a prat.” She was a much better runner than he was, and caught him by the arm when they were halfway up the stairs. “You’re going to get in so much trouble Draco, and McGonagall probably won’t even believe you. Come back to the common room. You’ve got the letter? Just show it to her in the morning it’s all the proof we need.”

“You think McGonagall will kick her golden Seeker out on that alone? No chance. I’m going to make sure Potter gets expelled.”

“Why? Why does it matter so much, Draco? You’re being an idiot, lowering yourself so much just to get at him. There’s no point getting Potter into trouble if you get yourself into the same trouble, too. What’s the point?”

“What’s the point of your nighttime adventures?” he asked, and she flinched. “Don’t think no one’s noticed you sneaking out, Aurora, it’s just no one’s bothered to stop you.” She knew he didn’t mean it to, but the words still stung. “What are you up to?”

“Something more worthwhile than risking yourself to get Potter expelled all because he’s a prat! I’m sure he’s more than capable of getting himself into trouble without you sneaking about at night!”

“You know, Aurora,” Draco said, wrenching his arm out of her grip and stalking off, “I’d have thought you of all people would want to get at Potter.”

Cold fury rushed through her at the insinuation. She’d never been truly angry at Draco before, but right now, for whatever reason, she was. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” she hissed, storming after him. “Draco, what the hell?”

“Oh, come off it. You know exactly what I mean, Aurora, even if you don’t want to admit it. Your father did the Potters in, but you’ll care more about stopping me from getting what I want than trying to expel Potter. Think, if it wasn’t for him surviving, the bloody Boy-Who-Lived, your father wouldn’t be in jail. He’d be right hand to the Dark Lord.”

“Don’t say that,” Aurora hissed. “You think I’d want that? Draco?” He didn’t answer. “Draco, you absolute prat, answer me! I do not want that! You-Know-Who he - he killed my mother! He killed so many people, you really think I’d rather have my father if it meant - that! If it meant people died, if a kid died, even if it was Potter? My father and his brother were foolish children, but no one else in my family would serve any lord, least of all me.” She took a step closer, breathing heavily. “You know I hate my father, Draco, and I hate every part of him, not just the Blood Traitor. And you know what? You know what I thought you’d understand more than anyone else?” Her eyes were stinging with blazing fury. “I am not my father.”

“Miss Black!” She whipped around, and didn’t care that her ponytail hit Draco’s cheek. Professor McGonagall was stalking down the corridor towards them, and she was white with fury. “Mr Malfoy!”

“Run,” Draco said, and Aurora grabbed his arm, shoving him forward.

“Coward,” she muttered, and he threw her a furious look.

“What happened to not getting caught?”

“Enough, Mr Malfoy.” McGonagall took each of them by the arm and started hauling them down the corridor. “Two students out of bed, at midnight no less, I’ve never heard the like.”

“But Professor,” Draco panted, “It’s Potter!”

“What’s Potter?” Aurora didn’t miss how her eyes cut to her sharply, as though expecting this to be her fault.

“He’s got a dragon, Professor. He’s trying to smuggle it to Romania with Ronald Weasley’s brother!”

“What nonsense,” Professor McGonagall said clippedly. “Of course Potter doesn’t have a dragon, Malfoy. Thirty points will be taken from Slytherin for both of your insolence!”

“But Professor, it’s true!” Draco insisted. “I’ve seen it! Back me up, Aurora!”

McGonagall looked at her sharply. “Well, I - I haven’t seen the dragon,” she admitted. “I was trying to get Draco to come back to the common room instead of wandering like an idiot alone in the middle of the night to try and find you.”

“Suck up,” Draco hissed, and Aurora tried to elbow him in the side, except McGonagall got in the way, and she really didn’t want to elbow her.

“Be that as it may, Miss Black,” McGonagall said, “you still should not have been out of bed at this time. You will both be serving detentions. Now, with me, back to your common room! And stay there!”

“But Professor, Potter-“

“Silence, Mr Malfoy! I don’t want to hear any more of these tall tales!”

She dragged them all the way back to the common room, and made Draco go inside first. “And straight to bed with you!” He sulked as he entered, and the wall slid closed behind him. Now alone with McGonagall, Aurora felt intensely nervous. “As for you, Miss Black.” She pursed her lips. “I couldn’t help but hear some of what you and Mr Malfoy were discussing.”

Aurora’s heart raced. She had? She couldn’t bear the thought of it, of someone hearing what she thought of her father - stupid, reckless, murderous, Blood Traitor, Death Eater, scum of her blood. “And what did you hear, Professor?” she asked as evenly as possible.

“I heard what you said about your father.” Her cheeks blazed. She never spoke about him, and while admitting her feelings to Draco were one thing, having McGonagall overhear made her feel sick. There was a glimmering sadness in McGonagall’s eyes. She hated it. “I taught him, you know.”

“Oh. Right.” She wanted to go back to her room immediately. “Well, if that’s all, Professor, I think I really ought to get back to bed.”

“You are a bright student, Miss Black,” McGonagall told her. “Do not throw that away on sneaking around after hours and making trouble.”

“Yes, Professor,” Aurora said quickly, and sighed in relief when McGonagall left and she could go back to her room to sleep.

It seemed Potter had been caught anyway. When Aurora went to the Great Hall in the morning, Gryffindor was missing a total of one hundred and fifty house points, and the story of the night before spread quickly amongst the gossipy Hogwarts population. “They got Longbottom involved too,” Pansy said as they ate lunch. “That’s what I heard.”

“They didn’t?” Aurora said, aghast. “What’d they get out of that?”

“Don’t know,” Draco said, not meeting Aurora’s eyes, “but he certainly doesn’t seem to be on speaking terms with them. Shame Potter didn’t get expelled, though.”

“Yes,” Aurora said, narrowing her eyes across the Great Hall. “Shame.”

“I thought you’d be pleased,” Draco said. Aurora glared at him, stood up, and promptly went to sit beside Daphne instead.

She tried to keep her head down for the rest of the month. Exams were coming up after all, and after that she would attempt to get the stone again. But in the final week of May, Snape called Draco and her out to inform them that they would be serving their detentions with Hagrid in the Forbidden Forest that evening. Aurora didn’t mind this - Hagrid had seemed nice to her, and she trusted that he could manage the forest - but Draco seemed terrified out of his wits.

“There aren’t really werewolves in the forest,” she huffed at him, after hearing him go on about it for a full ten minutes. “And it isn’t even near a full moon. Stop being dim.”

“Just because it isn’t a full moon doesn’t mean they aren’t a threat,” he said, prompting Aurora to go and fetch a book on the subject to prove his inaccuracy.

“You can be scared if you want, Draco,” she told him. “But I’d rather you knew what you were talking about. Otherwise you just look foolish.”

In hindsight, giving Draco the book about werewolves was not the best idea. He was even more scared by the time they went to meet Filch at the Entrance Hall, where Potter, Granger and Neville were all already waiting.

“I can’t believe they’re really making us go into the forest,” Draco was quivering to Aurora, who glared at him.

“We wouldn’t be going to detention at all if you’d listened to me,” she hissed back. “Stop being a prat.”

“Stop calling me a prat, then.”

“Well, that would be a lie, so no, I won’t.”

“What is wrong with you? You’ve been in a mood for months.”

“Oh, I do wonder why that is,” she spat.

Draco looked taken aback, and Aurora seized the opportunity to forge on ahead, leaving him to trail behind. “Look,” he whispered, catching up to her, “I’m sorry, I didn’t think.”

She did not give him a reply. Aurora caught Potter looking at her and pursed her lips, mouthing, “We’ll talk later.” She’d assumed their deal was off now, but it would be better to talk it over, even if she had taken some time. Though there wasn’t much Potter could give her now that she didn’t already know, other than a way to trick the mirror.

“About time,” Hagrid said when they reached him at last, hoisting his crossbow over his shoulder. “I’ve been waiting almost half an hour already. Alright, Harry, Hermione? Aurora?”

Aurora blinked in surprise at being addressed, but nodded at Hagrid. Draco looked unimpressed. “I wouldn’t be so friendly with them, Hagrid,” Filch said, “they’re here to receive justice after all.”

“Is that why you’re late, is it?” Hagrid asked, frowning. “Bin lecturing them, eh? You’ve no right right to do that. You’ve done your bit, Filch, I’ll take over from here.”

“I’ll be back at first light,” Filch said, and Aurora groaned at the thought of being out here all nigh. She’d be exhausted in the morning, which would interfere terribly with her study plans. “For what’s left of them.” That made her feel even worse.

He left, lantern light fading into the darkness, and Draco turned on Hagrid, clearly panicked. “I’m not going into that Forest.”

“You are if you want to stay at Hogwarts,” Hagrid said. “You’ve done wrong and now you have to pay for it.”

“But this is servant’s work!” Draco cried. “It’s not for students to do!”

“Shut up, Draco,” Aurora murmured. “You’ll only make it worse.”

“I thought we’d be doing lines or something! If my father knew about this-“

“He’d tell yeh that’s how it is at Hogwarts,” Hagrid said. “Writing lines! What good’s that to anybody? You’ll do something useful or you can get out! If you think your father’d rather yeh were expelled then go on up to the castle and pack! On yeh go!”

Draco didn’t move, for which Aurora was quite relieved. “Right then,” Hagrid said, “now listen carefully, cause I’ll only say this once. It’s dangerous what we’re doing tonight and I don’t want any of yeh taking any unnecessary risks.” Neville shivered and Aurora gave him what she hoped was an encouraging smile. “Follow me over here a minute.”

Hagrid led them to the very edge of the forest and then down a narrow, winding track that led through the darkest, thickest trees. “Look there,” he said, pointing by his lantern light. “See that silver stuff on the ground? That’s unicorn blood.” Aurora gasped. “There’s a unicorn in there been hurt by somebody and this isn’t the first. I found another dead on Wednesday.”

“That’s horrid,” Aurora breathed, staring at the blood. Unicorns were such precious, beautiful creatures, and they were so pure. To kill them was like the ultimate crime.

“I quite agree with yeh, Aurora,” Hagrid said grimly. “That’s why we’re going to try and find the poor creature. We might have to put it out of its misery.”

“What? Kill it?”

“Sometimes,” Hagrid said heavily, looking at her, “when a creature is so badly wounded, and in so much pain, killing it’s a mercy.”

Aurora was stunned, but she nodded at Hagrid. She’d heard of people’s pets being put down, but the thought of death... It wasn’t something she was unaccustomed to, but she still felt horrible shivers at the thought. Death had not visited her since the funeral, and she didn’t want to see him again.

“And what if that thing finds us first?” Draco asked, fear clear in his voice.

“Nothing in the forest will hurt yeh if yeh’re with me or Fang.” Aurora thought that whatever was hurting a unicorn wouldn’t really care. “And yeh’ll stay on the path. Right, we’re going to split in two parties and follow the trail in different parts.”

“Aurora and I’ll take Fang,” Draco said quickly, eyeing Hagrid’s massive bulldog.

“Alright,” Hagrid agreed. “But I’m warning you, he’s a right coward. So me, Harry and Hermione’ll go one way, and Draco, Aurora, Neville and Fang’ll go the other. If any of us finds the unicorn, we’ll send up green sparks. Practice now. Good. And if we get into trouble we’ll send up red. Got that?” They all nodded. Poor Neville looked scared witless. “Let’s get going.”

Neville hung close to Aurora, sneaking nervous glances at Draco. “Don’t worry,” she whispered to him, “I’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything to you.”

Neville didn’t look like he quite believed her, but there wasn’t much she could do about that right now. A little way along the path they forked to the right while the others went left. They walked along in silence, eyes on the ground. Aurora wouldn’t have minded conversation, but both Draco and Neville seemed too scared to speak, which she found rather ironic considering how often Draco ridiculed the latter’s cowardice. He was just as terrified, if not more so, and Fang wasn’t doing much to help.

Aurora kept hearing noises. Once, like a snake slithering across the ground, and then like a cloak. She kept a very tight grip on her wand, and Draco hung nervously at her shoulder. “You don’t think that’s a werewolf, do you?” he whispered.

“Don’t be so stupid,” she whispered back. “If a werewolf was coming for you, you’d know, Draco. They’re not exactly quiet creatures.”

He didn’t say any more after that, clearly listening out for werewolves. Aurora still thought it was ridiculous, seeing as it wasn’t even a full moon. Neville, to her surprise, was walking a little bit ahead of them. Good for him, she thought with a smile. “Oi,” Draco whispered after they’d been walking for what felt like an hour, “watch this.”

“Draco, what...”

He didn’t listen. Draco ran up to Neville, giving a shout, and grabbed him by the shoulders. Neville screamed, sending up a shower of red sparks, and Aurora darted forwards to separate them. “Draco!” she barked. “What are you doing?”

Neville shook with fear, and Aurora held him behind her. “Just a joke, Aurora.”

“It’s not funny,” she snapped. “You’re being an idiot. You could have gotten us all found and then we’d be in right trouble with any werewolves, wouldn’t we? You idiot!”

She turned on Neville, who looked just as frightened, and she sighed. “It’s alright,” she told him quietly. “Stick with me, okay? Draco here-“ She shot him a furious look “-won’t do that again. Will you, Draco?”

“No,” Draco muttered, scuffing the ground.

“Good. Come on.” She took Neville’s hand and squeezed it tightly, once, for encouragement. He went bright red, which had not been her intention. “Let’s keep going. And be quiet, Draco.”

They only got a few minutes further before Hagrid appeared in front of them. “What’s happenin’?” he asked, looking between them all. “Who sent up the sparks?”

“M-m-me,” Neville stammered out, cowering just behind Aurora. “M-M-Malfoy...”

“Draco,” Aurora said with a glare, “gave Neville a fright. But we’re all alright now, aren’t we, boys?”

“Yes,” Draco said sullenly, and she caught Neville nodding too.

“Well then,” Hagrid said, “we’ll get back to the others, I’m not having you lot making a ruckus off on your own.”

He led them back through the trees, Neville clutching the sleeve of Aurora’s robe tightly. It was a bit annoying, actually, but she didn’t have the heart to try and shrug him off, he was still shaking so bad. “Right,” Hagrid said when they reached Potter and Granger, “we’re changing groups. Harry, yeh can go with Fang, Aurora, and this idiot. Hermione and Neville, you’re with me.” Neville looked quite relieved by this arrangement though Aurora was not. She didn’t want to have to get between Draco and Potter. It was just a recipe for disaster.

She walked in between the two boys so as to avoid any direct confrontation, and it seemed to work, as they continued on for quite some time without any interruptions. It was only when Potter grabbed Aurora by the arm that she glared at him. “What?”

“Look,” he said, pointing to the ground where there was a thick trail of silvery unicorn blood. Her stomach flipped.

“Oh.” She grabbed Draco’s hand to pull him back. “Oh, it’s horrible.”

They all stood stunned for a moment. It was Potter who tugged them along, until they came into the shadow of a twisted oak tree. A silvery unicorn lay at its roots, slender legs at odd angles. It was moving but only just. Potter made to move towards it, but Aurora stopped him. “They react better to girls,” she told him quietly. “You send up sparks, I’ll see if there’s anything I can do to help it.”

Potter nodded, though he looked surprised at her. The state the unicorn was in was truly horrid, and it made Aurora feel sick to think anyone had done this. To kill an innocent creature, any innocent creature, it was so cruel.

“It’s alright,” she told the unicorn as soothingly as she could, stroking its smooth side. “We’re going to help you.” It let out a low whinny. “I know, I know you’re hurt. It’s alright. You’ll be alright, sweetheart.”

“Black,” Potter said suddenly, “get back.”

“What are you-“

Draco screamed and Aurora leapt to her feet, making to run after him, but Potter caught her. He looked horrified, and when she turned around she realised why.

Someone else had arrived, heavily cloaked, and was feasting on the unicorn in front of them. Her throat felt dry. She reached for her wand to summon green sparks, as Potter made to walk forwards, but then the thing in the cloak turned and Potter yelled, clutching his head.

“Get back, you idiot!” she cried, pulling Potter behind her, panting. The thing made towards them, Silver blood dripping grotesquely down the shadows of its chin. She froze, but then it did, too.

A figure in grey smoke curled behind it, forming the hazy outline of Death. He raised a skeletal finger to his lips, his other hand reaching out to the thing under the cloak’s shoulder. Aurora couldn’t move; she found herself holding tightly onto Potter, keeping him upright as he squirmed in pain.

Then something came thundering through the bushes and arrived in front of them. Death curled away in a wisp of smoke and the other thing disappeared. Potter stopped moving, but he was panting heavily as Aurora held him to her side. He stared up at her, and then at the centaur that had just appeared.

“Um,” Aurora said, “hello.”

“Are you alright?” the centaur asked, as she was still holding a struggling Potter.

“Y-Yeah,” he said, wincing. “I’m alright now. What - that thing-“

“It’s dead,” Aurora said quietly. She was looking at the unicorn and she could tell now, it wasn’t breathing. Was that why Death was there? But he had held the other person, not the unicorn. “The unicorn, it’s... Oh, it’s horrid. Should we bury it? Are unicorns meant to be buried?”

She didn’t think they were. “A unicorn’s spirit may run free,” the centaur said. “It is a terrible crime to slay one of the pure. But the innocent are always the first to suffer.”

“Er, right.” She knew centaurs had a reputation for being difficult to understand. “Thank you, for helping us, sir. Do you know Hagrid?”

The centaur nodded. “Everyone knows Hagrid in this forest.”

“What was that?” Potter asked, still staring at the unicorn. The centaur did not answer, not that Aurora had expected him to.

“Can you ride?” the centaur asked, but he needn’t have. Hagrid had come running through the forest, followed by Draco, Neville and Granger, with Fang at their heels.

“Ah,” Hagrid said, looking relieved. “Firenze. Harry, Aurora...” He panted, and looked sorrowfully at the unicorn. “This is the poor thing, then.”

“Someone was drinking its blood,” Aurora said quietly. “Someone in a cloak. We didn’t see-“ She glanced at Potter. He had been holding his forehead, his scar, in pain. Everyone knew where that scar came from. But that was impossible. The Dark Lord wasn’t roaming the grounds of Hogwarts. Dumbledore would know in an instant. “We didn’t see who it was.”

“It’s alright,” Hagrid said, and he could clearly see how shaken they were, because he said, “you lot go on to the clearing up ahead. I’ll deal with this.” He patted Aurora on the shoulder. “It’s alright.”

“It was horrible.”

“I know, Aurora,” he said in a heavy voice. “I know.”

She went on with the others to a small clearing, where Granger sat down anxiously and started up a quiet conversation with Potter. Neville stood along with Fang, looking quite unsure of what to do, while Draco came over to Aurora. She didn’t much feel like speaking to him. “I can’t believe you screamed like that,” she said even though it had been terrifying. “I can’t believe you ran away.” And left me, she added in her head.

“What was I supposed to do?” Draco hissed. “And anyway, you’re fine - but what was that thing?”

“I don’t know,” Aurora told him honestly. “But nothing good, that’s for sure. Don’t you know what it means to drink a unicorn’s blood?” Draco nodded.

“It means you’ll stay alive, right? It’s healing?”

“Oh, you’ll stay alive,” she said. “Even if you’re about to die, it’ll keep you alive from a while. But it’s cursed, too. The moment you drink it, and the moment you kill it, really, you’ll only live a half life. And it’s a horrid thing to do besides. The poor thing was so... helpless.” She looked down at the ground sadly. Death came for all things in the end.

“I know.” Draco glanced behind him. “Oh, I wish he’d hurry up.”

“He’ll be here soon,” Aurora said. She didn’t take a seat like the others did, preferring to keep an alert watch until Hagrid returned, from faced, through the trees.

They stayed outside the forest for the remainder of the night until Filch came to get them. Potter kept looking at Aurora in a way that made her want to hex him. He didn’t get the hint.

Eventually, when Granger was talking to Neville and Hagrid and Draco was sitting grimly with Fang, Potter came to sit by her side on a log. She glared at him sideways. “Yes?”

“Did you see who that was? At all?” She shook her head. “Oh. I thought...”

He trailed off into silence. “Was it your scar that hurt you?” Aurora asked, taking a leap of faith.

Potter stared. “How’d you work that out?”

“It’s not that hard. I looked at you. But was that it?” Potter nodded, and she smiled grimly. “I’d thought as much. That thing, whatever it is, it was desperate, and very close to dying.” Except it should already be dead, by all accounts. “If I were you, Potter,” she said, “I’d be very careful.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“No.” She laughed bitterly. “I’m warning you.”


	18. Quirrel’s Secret

Despite her fears over what she had seen in the forest, Aurora was undeterred from her two current goals: the first, to excel in her exams, and the second, to return to the mirror. She still didn’t know if she’d quite be able to get the stone, but her diagrams and what little work she’d managed to get out of the image had been helpful, and armed with new research, she thought she might as well try again before the end of term.

Every night in the common room she pored over her notes, to the point that Pansy declared her as ridiculous. “You don’t see Millie and I staying up till midnight working,” she said. “You’re doing far more than necessary, Aurora, honestly. Nobody cares about first year marks.”

“I care,” she said. “And besides, I happen to be enjoying myself.”

Pansy looked horrified by the thought, which Aurora was quite amused by. Draco, on the other hand, had only started scraping his notes together the week before exams and was in a state of panic, all but begging Aurora for her History notes. “It isn’t my fault you use that class to complain about Potter and sleep instead of studying goblins,” she said primly, but eventually relented and gave him some of her rougher notes. “You had better take care of those.”

Her exams had gone very well, in her opinion, and though she knew she would never be able to gain a wholly accurate image of her own abilities, she liked to think she’d received mostly Outstandings. At any rate, she would do better than Gwen, who came out of Transfiguration looking like she’d been sick. “It was terrible,” she muttered. “It turned into an iguana! How did it turn into an iguana?”

Aurora just laughed, assuring Gwen that she’d done better than she thought, while Robin Oliphant caught up to them chattering about how elegant McGonagall had said his music box was. “It wasn’t meant to be a music box,” Aurora informed him. “It was a snuffbox.”

“Yes, well.” Oliphant flushed. “It made a very nice tune.”

Nevertheless, Aurora was glad when she completed her final History of Magic exam. Sighs of relief were audible throughout the classroom, and it felt wonderful to be able to run down to the lake with her friends and sip her toes into the cool water while the sun beat on their heads. She was going to do it tonight, she decided, watching as Daphne splashed Pansy with water and caused her to shriek worse than a banshee. It would be the perfect time, when she was still riding her high from how well the exams had gone and had plenty of time to work over the next week if she wanted. Plus, it would take her mind off of worrying about the results, which weren’t due to come out until the end of next week.

Gwen was once again sworn to secrecy and pleading ignorance. “But if you get yourself killed,” she warned, late at night, as the common room was empty, “I will be furious.”

Aurora grinned on her way out the door. “Take it out with my ghost then!”

Now she knew what she was doing, Aurora felt this would be a much quicker task. She kept her violin with her, and had made sure to perfect both lumos and incendio for the Devil’s Snare. She knew what key to use for the door, which was useful, as well as the potion to use - provided it didn’t change, which wouldn’t entirely surprise her - and how to get past the troll. The only issue was chess. She didn’t know if she could pull off another win in a row, but she had to try, at least.

The castle was quiet and dark as she made her way upwards, pausing at every sound. For whatever reason, tonight felt a lot eerier than the last time she’d tried to find the stone. It felt like something was watching her. Aurora refused to look though. Giving in to her fear would only make it worse.

At one time she was sure she heard the sliding of a cloak over stones, and muffled whispering, but she had to have imagined it. She was frozen against the wall for a good five minutes, though, and only set off again when she was sure she was alone.

Someone had already been there. A harp lay discarded on the floor, and she could see that whoever had come down last hadn’t closed the trapdoor correctly. Her immediate thought was Potter; anyone else would have had enough of a brain to lock or at least close the door behind them. For a second she considered turning back. If Potter was there he was bound to get her into trouble, but why was he there in the first place? Was he trying to steal it for a bit more fame and gold? She wanted to believe it, but she wasn’t sure he would. Did he still think Snape was after it? But Aurora had seen the light still on in his office when she’d passed. He wasn’t here.

The Kerberos growled and she hurried back, playing the violin gently. At least whoever had been here before had done a bit of the work for her. All three giant heads drooped, and as Aurora hurried to the trapdoor, she reduced her violin, stuffed it in her pocket and leapt down, dragging the door shut behind her.

She tumbled into the Devil’s Snare and got past it easily, now she was better prepared. This place was eerier than she remembered. She glanced around, but nothing lurked in the shadows and she knew that. Still, she kept herself very quiet, and held her wand tightly, as she crept towards the door - she could hear wings beating inside - and slowly pulled it open.

The wings stopped. Aurora gaped at the three children in front of her: Potter, Weasley and Granger all stared back at her with wide eyes. Potter had his hand around a broom, like he was about to take flight. “What is she doing here?” Weasley blustered, staring.

“What am I doing here?” She laughed in a high and dismissive voice. “What are you doing here? I’d have thought you two would have had enough sneaking about this place.”

“You’re working with him!” Weasley accused, and Aurora stared, quite taken aback.

“With who, Weasley?” The three Gryffindors exchanged nervous looks. Aurora tapped her foot impatiently. “If you’re just going to stand there gawping, I’ll get the key myself. You can enjoy being locked in.”

“Snape’s already through,” Potter said quietly to Granger and Weasley. “He got here before us. She can’t be working with him.”

“Well done,” Aurora said, and though she kept her tone bored, she gave Potter a grateful smile. It seemed to surprise him. “I’m not working with anyone, as I’ve already explained to you, Potter.” She narrowed her eyes. “Why are you here?”

“We-“ Granger started nervously. She could tell the three of them were debating silently, trying to decide how much to tell Aurora. Her frustration grew again.

“Let me guess,” she said, glancing between them, “you’re going to stop Snape from stealing the stone and save the day, becoming everyone’s favourite first year again? The pride of Gryffindor?” She sneered.

“No,” Potter said, looking frustrated with her. She smirked in satisfaction. “We- we are going to stop Snape, but it’s because - we have to!”

She shook her head. “You don’t have to do anything, Potter. Are you going to give me that broom?”

Potter blinked in surprise and clutched the broom tighter. “No. I can catch the key myself.”

“Oh, yes, I know that. Youngest Seeker in a century. But you don’t know what you’re looking for. I do.”

She let that sink in. Granger looked furious. “You’ve been here before?”

“Obviously,” she said slowly, smirking. She held her hand out for the broom Potter was holding. “I’m surprised it took you so long to find your way.”

Potter looked very caught on what to do about the broom. Aurora could tell he was deliberating whether or not he could trust her, or if she’d even help them. “Don’t give it to her, Harry!” Weasley said, looking pale.

“And what will you do if you don’t?” Aurora asked, eyes cutting to him sharply. He gulped. “If you get the key, after ages, and try to leave me in here, I’ll just get it again. If you don’t do anything and stay here, then you’ll lose your precious stone.” She tried to act like the thought of losing the stone didn’t scare her too. “And if you give it to me? I will let you through. If you promise not to stop me when we get to the stone.”

“And what are you going to do with it, eh? Why would we let you near it?”

“I’m not going to doing anything but study it,” Aurora said as evenly as she could.

“Study it?”

“Yes. Foreign as that idea might be to you, Potter-“

“Alright!” Granger said loudly. She looked nervous, glancing at the door behind them. “Give her the broom, Harry.”

“Hermione!” Weasley cried, rounding on her. “Are you mad?”

“Just - just give it to her! The longer we wait, the closer You-Know-Who gets to the stone!”

Aurora stared at her, momentarily blindside. The thought struck her. “What do you mean, You-Know-Who?”

Granger clasped her hands to her mouth. “Oh, I shouldn’t have said-“

“He’s after it? That - you agree, you know it, too! That thing in the forest was him!” Though they didn’t say anything, Aurora’s theory had been silently validated. The Dark Lord, by whatever twisted miracle, hadn’t died as everyone thought. And he was searching again for eternal life. She felt ever so slightly sick, but it wasn’t going to stop her from getting the stone. It was better in her hands than the Dark Lord’s, after all. “Give me the broom,” she said quickly. Potter hesitated. “Give me the broom and I promise, I won’t let him hurt you and I won’t let him get the stone. Alright?”

Granger and Weasley still looked doubtful, but Aurora met Potter’s eyes fiercely, and he slowly handed the broom over. She snatched it from his hand and a second later had pushed off from the ground. Her eyes caught the key from earlier with ease, and she almost forgot all about the three Gryffindors beneath her as she soared the air and snatched the struggling key out of the air before diving straight back down to the ground, grinning. Potter raised his eyebrows but said nothing as Aurora plunged the key into the lock and turned. The door creaked open and Aurora darted inside, the others at her back.

“It’s a chessboard!”

“Well done, Weasley.”

“Do we have to play?” Potter asked, looking shocked.

“Well, obviously, yes, that’s why it’s here.”

Potter scowled at her and Granger tightened her jaw, but Weasley looked almost excited at the chess board. “This is brilliant,” he said. “I can do this.”

“Can you?” Aurora asked incredulously. She’d much rather do it herself, rather than relying on Weasley to get it right.

“Ron’s great at wizard’s chess actually,” Potter told her sharply, and she held her hands up.

“I didn’t know. I don’t know if we all have to play or not - I was on my own last time, of course.”

The other seemed dampened by that reminder. “I’ll take a Knight,” Weasley said at last. “Harry, you’re a room and Hermione a bishop. Black - Aurora-“ He fumbled.

“I’ll be king,” she said, marching to take the most protected piece.

“Are you sure?” Granger asked. “If we lose-“

“Don’t you have faith in Weasley, Granger?” She rose her eyebrows and Granger shook her head.

“You’re right. I do trust Ron. Take the king.”

Smiling, Aurora did so. A large part of her wanted to control this herself, terrified that Weasley would make a bad move and mess it up for them, but as it turned out, he was actually good. She wouldn’t say he was better than her - they did debate a few of the more risky moves - but ultimately they won without any personal casualties and were free to hurry to the next room.

“Wait behind me,” Aurora instructed. “There’s a troll in there. I’ll get in and poison it.”

“Poison it?” Weasley squeaked.

“Yes, Weasley, that is what I said. I just have to get myself close enough to its mouth.”

“But where did you get poison?” Granger asked, sounding aghast. “I doubt that’s legal to bring into the school.”

Aurora laughed. “I didn’t bring it into the school, Granger. There’s a room on the seventh floor that can be anything you need it to be, I brewed it in there. Now do as I say. Don’t rush in unless I die. Then I can’t suffer the consequences of you lot going the same way.”

On that cheerful note, she opened the door and prepared herself for a blast of aggression and smell, but all she got was the smell. The troll was already knocked out on the floor, drooling. “Well,” she said, blinking. “It seems our job’s already been done for us. Jolly good, now I can keep this poison for someone else.”

Granger looked like she was about to faint. Smirking, Aurora grabbed Potter and dragged him along with her; the others had no choice but to follow. “We’re almost there,” she said, walking into the room with the Potions. It had the exact same layout as last time, but that didn’t mean the riddle was the same.

At once when they entered, fire sprung up on either side of the room. Weasley looked terrified. “It won’t hurt you,” Aurora snapped. “You just need the right potion. Granger, you can help me with this one.”

“I - I can?” Granger looked shocked by the offer.

“You do seem to have some common sense, which is more than I can see for your friends.”

“Oi!” Weasley protested.

“Come on.”

The riddle was the same as last time, and so it wasn’t difficult. “Well,” she said, not knowing what to do now they were all here. “I presume that potion will take you back out somewhere. This one will take me forward to the stone.”

“What?” Potter spluttered angrily. “You said you’d take us to the stone!”

“I said I’d make sure you weren’t hurt and that You-Know-Who wouldn’t get the stone. He won’t, but I might.”

“You tricked us!”

“Well done, Granger.” She smirked, clapping slowly, enjoying the look on their faces. “I tricked you.”

Someone grabbed her hand. Potter wrenched the potion out of her grip, met her eyes, and downed it in one go. She stared at him, heart pounding. No. He did not just do that. “Harry Potter,” she said lowly, fuming. “Did you really just do what I think you did?”

He looked shocked by himself, but nodded determinedly. “I’m saving the stone,” he said. “That’s why I’m here. I don’t care what you’re up to, Black, but I’m not letting - letting him come back. And if you’re working with him-“

“I’m not,” she spat. “You-Know-Who killed my mother.” Potter blinked. Clearly he hadn’t known that. “I only want to see the stone for my own ends.”

But she couldn’t now. She could come back another time but she was sure Potter would tell someone and it would be moved. He’d ruined everything, and it took all of her self control not to lunge for him right then and there. She was more dignified than that, after all. So she said evenly, “Go on then. See how you fare against Snape. If you’re so determined to stop him.”

“I will,” Potter said defiantly. Granger and Weasley were holding the last bottle, and split it between them as Aurora watched in outrage. They were going to leave her there. They’d tricked her too. Fury prickled under her skin.

“Oh, I really do hate you three.”

They all bolted, Potter through to the next chamber and his friends back wherever the fire brought them out. She was left alone, silently fuming. She wanted to hit something, burn this stupid chamber to the ground. Stupid Potter and his stupid friends - they’d double crossed her, she realised. How could she have let them? Aurora paced a few moments before steadying her breath. She wasn’t going to starve and die down here; she had enough faith that Potter, if he survived, wouldn’t let that happen. He was too good for that, the precious golden boy who lived. Merlin, she hated him. At that moment she hated him more than she had hated anyone in her life, and was sure that she could never stop hating him.

She made herself calm down slowly. The potions had refilled for them, after all. Perhaps she only had to wait. It was maybe ten minutes before they refilled, the riddle the same as always. Aurora immediately selected the correct bottle and downed it, anger crossing through her. She forced herself to push that aside; she could deal with Potter later when she wouldn’t be such a suspect. Right now she just wanted to see the stone and get what she came for. Of course, there might be the old issue of the Dark Lord trying to murder her - but, she thought with a shock of panic that surprised her, maybe he was trying to do the same to Potter. Maybe he already had.

Much as she hated the stupid prat, she didn’t want him to die. She walked briskly into the flames and was consumed, coming out the other end. What she saw made her scream.

Professor Quirrel was turned around, his turban unwound; and on the other side of his face was a pale, horrid creature with red eyes, slits for a nose, and a cold smile. She knew him at once. Terror and pain coursed through her, as the thing’s eyes lit up.

That was You-Know-Who. The Dark Lord. Voldemort. The man who murdered her mother and whom her father and uncle had served until their incarceration and death. The man who had tried to kill Potter, who currently looked terrified. Aurora was, too, she realised, her heart hammering. “And who is this? One of your little noble friends?”

Aurora could do nothing except shake her head, speechless. Potter didn’t say anything at all, either. “Oh, I know you, don’t I?” He sneered. “Little Aurora Black. Look at you, all grown up. How proud your family must be.”

Her hand flew to her wand. He laughed, a cold, high laugh that made all the hairs on her neck stand up. “Don’t talk about my family,” she said in a low, dangerous voice. Voldemort only laughed at it.

“Curious that the two of you should be friends. Or perhaps...” A cold smile came over his face. “Enemies. Do you know your family’s history, Aurora?”

She stepped forward, pulling a white looking Potter behind him. “I do.” She raised her wand, though her hand was shaking, and Voldemort knew it.

“What brings you to this stone, hmm? Power? Gold? Life? I could give you it all.” There was something falsely warm in his voice, something that was trying to draw Aurora in. But she knew her own reasons for wanting the stone. “Your uncle was one of my most loyal, you know. He served me so well. The Blacks are pure of blood and noble of name.” He held out a hand that was Quirrel’s, but not. “You would do well with me. I hear you are an orphan now. Join me.”

She just stared at him. This couldn’t be real. He was not asking her to join him. “Aurora,” Potter said, and she startled at the sound of her name in his mouth. “Don’t.”

She looked back at Voldemort, the grotesque and desperate creature on the back of her teacher’s head. “You killed my mother,” she said quietly.

“War is death, my child.”

She shook her head, panting. “Why would you think I would want to join you?”

“Because I can offer you what no one else could. I could offer you power. A new way in the world. Everyone would know Aurora, not only for her father, but for her.” She hated the way he knew what she wanted. She hated even more that, for a fleeting second, she contemplated it. But she could never trick him to letting her free. She knew that; she wasn’t arrogant. Blacks didn’t serve anyone. It was a lesson both her father and uncle had forgotten, and one that she refused to let go of. She stepped forwards though, ignoring Potter’s gasp. The Dark Lord smiled. “Bow to me, my child,” he told her in that low, inviting murmur. “I can give you the world.”

She met his eyes. They were a red even redder than Gryffindor, redder than blood, and despite the colour, they were cold at their heart. Here was a Slytherin who rose higher than them all, gaining notoriety from every corner. Except he was not a man, not any more. She could see it in his eyes. They were cold but they were young. They had not truly seen pain and death like others had, like hers had. They’d only looked upon it and smiled.

“I am a Black,” she told him. “I won’t bow to anyone. Least of all you.”

His red eyes flashed with anger and she took the opportunity to shove him backwards. He sprawled onto the ground and she ran for Potter, ignoring his look of alarm, and bolted to the wall where she remembered the door to be. “What are you doing?”

“Saving your life! You could at least be a bit quicker on the uptake!”

“But you - you were going to-“

“As if, Potter! Come-“

Quirrel wrenched Potter away from her and he let out an indignant cry. “You have the stone, boy! I will take it whether you want me to or not!”

“Get off of him!” Aurora cried, charging back towards them, wand out.

But Quirrel was already stumbling away from Potter, looking pained. Potter seemed in pain, too; he was clutching his forehead as if in agony. No, not just his forehead. His scar. Aurora glanced in horror between him and Quirrel, whose hands seemed to coming up in burns, the tips flaking grotesquely. “What did you do?”

“SEIZE HIM!” Voldemort’s voice shouted, and Aurora and Quirrel lunged for Potter at the same time. He beat her to it, but only just.

“I can’t hold him, Master!” he cried, stumbling away again as his arms started to blister. “I can’t hold him!”

“Potter,” Aurora hissed, closing around his armpits and trying to shove Quirrel off. “Work with me here.”

He didn’t seem in much of a position to do anything. She was terrified for a moment that he really was dying - oh, the idiot! She was going to kill him. Once she’d finished with Voldemort.

“Then kill him!” he was yelling, as Quirrel pressed Potter to the ground and grabbed Aurora, hurling her away. She landed roughly on the stones, head spinning, just in time to see Potter, shaking and exhausted looking, raise his hands to grab Quirrel’s face as he blistered grotesquely.

Aurora stumbled to her feet and broke into a run again, trying to haul Quirrel away from Potter, when all of a sudden, boiling hot air ripples around the room. She pulled Quirrel off, flinging him to the ground and he weighed in pain. It was horrifying, and she stared at him, heart pounding. She didn’t want to see that. But it was better than Potter getting himself killed. She turned to him, swallowing her terror, and hauled him up to a sitting position. He only lolled pathetically, head on his shoulder like nothing more than a rag doll.

Terror seized her around the throat. He was going to die. No. No, no, no. He couldn’t die! “Help!” she found herself screaming as she clutched him tightly, trying to drag him along as she stumbled to her feet. “Someone, help!”

“Miss Black.”

She turned around sharply at the sound of Dumbledore’s voice, quite aghast. “Professor,” she panted. “Please, he - he's hurt, I don’t know what - he was going to kill him, Professor! Quirrel - You-Know-Who - he was going to kill P-Potter! I think - I think-“

“He is not dead,” Dumbledore said, stalking over. He held Potter up better than Aurora could have, and he held her too. “Do you know your way out of this room, Miss Black?” When he looked at her with that twinkle in his eye, she knew he knew. Part of her hated him for it, but that wasn’t the issue here.

“But Potter-“

“You will take him to the Hospital Wing for me, where you will tell Madam Pomfrey what has happened and await my return.”

“But he - can’t you-“

“Miss Black.” His eyes lost their twinkle. “Do as you are told.”

That was one thing she was good at. Aurora nodded, and though it took all of her strength, she managed to haul Potter upstairs all the way to the Hospital Wing. At one point she thought he might have come into consciousness, only to drop back and leave her to carry him. When at last she reached the Hospital Wing after what felt like far too long a while for something so urgent, she thought she was going to be sick from the exertion.

She burst through the doors, panting. “Madam Pomfrey! Madam Pomfrey! Quickly!”

The elderly nurse hurried from her office, looking alarmed. “What is it? What’s happened?”

“Potter - Potter - Quirrel is - is You-Know-Who and he was t-trying to get the Philosopher’s Stone!” Pomfrey paled. “Potter was t-trying to stop him, but he - Quirrel - You-Know-Who - he tried to kill him and Potter-“

Madam Pomfrey took him from her with ease and hurried him over to a bed. “Does the Headmaster know?” Aurora nodded numbly, staring at Potter. He looked very young like this, asleep and in a coma and not - no, just barely - breathing. Madam Pomfrey hurried around, taking various potions and ointments and casting various spells, and all Aurora could do was sit on a stool. She’d seen people die before. She knew death, and she saw him now, lurking at Potter’s bedside. Surely not. Not now. She pleaded with Death silently, but he didn’t look at her. Instead he was staring at Potter, not in a predatory way, but as though confused. He reached out a hand but didn’t touch him. Aurora thought he couldn’t. But that was stupid. He was the Boy-Who-Lived but he wasn’t the Boy-Who-Couldn’t-Die. It just wasn’t his time, because it couldn’t be. He was only a boy, after all.

“Miss Black.” Dumbledore broke her thoughts and she turned, gasping. “I believe there are some details we need to discuss.”

“He’ll be okay,” she said quickly. “Potter. He - he will, won’t he? He won’t die.”

“No, Miss Black,” Dumbledore said, eyes almost gentle. “Mr Potter will be right as rain in a few days with Madam Pomfrey’s care.” She gulped and nodded.

“Good. I... It really didn’t look...” She lost her words, but Dumbledore nodded like he understood.

“I’m afraid Mr Weasley and Miss Granger only gave me part of the tale. I am very interested in how you came to be with them. Poppy?” Madam Pomfrey glanced up. “Might I use your office for a moment? I trust you have Potter in hand.”

Pomfrey nodded tightly and Aurora found herself being led away. When she glanced at Potter, she saw Death smile mockingly at her, and when she stared back he melted into smoke. By the time she reached the office, it was as though he had never been there at all.


	19. Discussions with Dumbledore

“Take a seat,” Dumbledore said kindly, as a chair flew across Pomfrey’s office to wait just behind Aurora. She sat down gingerly, keeping her eyes fixed firmly on the Headmaster. “From Mr Weasley and Miss Granger, I got the impression that the three of them were going to try and save the Philosopher’s Stone from someone whom they thought was trying to steal it. There was no mention of you, and so I thought it prudent to ask, Miss Black, what you were doing down there?”

She considered lying. She was a good liar, usually, but she got the impression that Dumbledore would be able to see through her in an instant. That was why she said, “I wanted to study the stone.”

Dumbledore blinked in surprise, eyebrows rising. He didn’t seem to have expected that as her answer. “Study it?”

“Yes. I - I’ve always been very interested in Alchemy, Professor, and so when Potter told me the Philosopher’s Stone was being kept at Hogwarts, I thought... Well, it was too amazing an opportunity to ignore. I’d have to be mad not to at least try and find it. I wanted to study its properties and how it was made, and...” She swore she saw the shadow of Death again, taunting her. “And I was just interested, that’s all. I didn’t know someone else was going to try and steal it, least of all tonight! And I had no idea Potter and his friends were going to - to actually try and stop him!”

Dumbledore looked at her in silence for a long moment while she debated if there was something more she ought to say. But what she’d told him was the truth, and perhaps she would be punished for breaking the rules, but she had expected that. If she’d gone any other night, she wouldn’t have been caught and it would have been fine. Still. Her mind drifted to Potter. There were worse things than being caught by Dumbledore.

“I appreciate your honesty, Miss Black,” Dumbledore said quietly after a moment. “It takes courage to tell the truth when you know you have done wrong.” She nodded, swallowing tightly. “The quest for knowledge may be a noble one. But you still broke the school rules, not to mention put yourself in great danger.”

“I know, Professor,” she said quickly. “I’m really sorry.”

“And if the stone remained there, and you had the chance to try again to find it, would you?”

She sat silently, longer than she should have. She couldn’t honestly say no. Yes, she had been terrified when Potter got hurt and when she saw Voldemort, but if she had a guarantee that the same thing would not happen again, she couldn’t say that she wouldn’t try. She knew that wasn’t what Dumbledore wanted to hear, though. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “No, I... I don’t want to go back there.”

The Headmaster considered her with piercing blue eyes. “You saved Mr Potter’s life,” he told her eventually. “Despite your wrongdoings, I find I cannot judge you too severely when your presence did so much more good than it did harm. With that said, Miss Black, I will be taking twenty points from Slytherin.” She nodded sharply. That was much better than she’d expected. “And be warned that if I do catch you trying to find the stone again, the consequences will be far more severe.”

“Yes, Professor,” she said quickly. “Of course, I understand. Thank you.”

Dumbledore smiled and inclined his head. “There is another matter I find myself wishing to raise with you. The question of your guardianship.”

“Oh.” She’d forgotten about that. “Well, the Malfoys don’t want - I mean, they haven’t said that they would be willing to take me in. So I don’t really have much choice, unless I’m allowed to stay at Hogwarts I’ll be staying at the family home in London. My grandmother’s old house isn’t far from King’s Cross Station, which would be convenient for me to get around both Muggle and Magical London, and to get to Hogwarts in the Autumn.”

“I’m afraid I cannot allow a twelve year old to live by herself for two months, Miss Black,” Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling, “capable though I’m sure you are. Your father’s cousin, Andromeda, would be a good fit, I believe, and she gave me her assurances that she would be willing to care for you.”

“I don’t know Andromeda,” Aurora said through gritted teeth. “I didn’t even know we were related until a few months ago. I’d rather be alone than live with someone I don’t know.”

“I know this is difficult for you,” Dumbledore said kindly. “But it would set me at greater ease if you had someone responsible to care for you.”

“I have house elves,” she said. “Loads of them.”

“I am aware.”

“Well, they can look after me! And I’m not an idiot, and the house has loads of old wards. No one can get in who wants to hurt me.”

“Be that as it may, you are still a child.” Aurora glowered at him. “But this is not the time for such a conversation! No doubt you are tired, and Mr Potter’s friends will be most anxious to hear how he is doing. I will escort you back to the Slytherin Dungeons and inform Professor Snape what has happened.”

Aurora groaned. “Do you have to?”

“Yes, Miss Black. But my punishment is the only one you shall receive for this, I assure you, and I will tell Severus as such. Now, come.”

She followed him silently out of the office, eyes going straight to Potter. He looked eerie, hardly moving, so she tore her eyes away. She didn’t want to see that. Aurora followed Dumbledore all the way downstairs and to the common room.

When she got to her room, Gwen was awake. “Aurora? Is that you?” She flicked the light on. “Jesus, you gave me a fright.”

“Sorry,” she winced, flopping down onto her bed.

“Well? How did it go, whatever you were doing?” She didn’t have the words. Aurora shook her head silently. “What?” Gwen asked, voice high and wobbling with worry. “Aurora, what happened?”

“Potter was there,” she ground out. “Trying to stop someone - not me - from getting the stone. He’s in the Hospital Wing.”

Gwen regarded her warily. “But you - you didn’t...”

“I didn’t do anything to him,” Aurora said sharply, and then took a deep breath. “Professor Dumbledore says he’s going to be alright, but I can’t help but worry. And the person he was stopping...” She met Gwen’s eyes. Draco or Pansy she wasn’t sure she could reveal this information to, but Gwen was different. “It was You-Know-Who.”

Gwen frowned. “I do?” Aurora looked at her significantly, and then her friend clamped her hands over her mouth, looking quite shocked. “Oh my God! Aurora! What? I thought - they - but everyone says he’s - he’s dead! That Potter-“ She broke off. “What the actual Hell?”

“I don’t even know,” she said tiredly. “It’s a lot.”

“Jesus.” Gwen came to sit next to her, wrapping an arm around Aurora’s shoulder. “Are you alright?”

“I don’t know. I guess? I’m not the one in the Hospital Wing.”

“Yeah, but, you still saw him, did you?” She nodded numbly. “Jesus. So - is he... Back?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Dumbledore said he dealt with him though, so I don’t know. He must have stopped him but he didn’t really say.” She shook her head. “He asked me about where I’m staying in the holidays! Of all things! Like that’s important right now!”

“Well where are you staying?”

“At home. London. On my own, if no one interferes.” She shook her head. “That isn’t important. Merlin. I need to sleep.”

“You’re probably right,” Gwen said. “You look tired.”

“Thanks.”

Gwen smiled faintly and squeezed Aurora’s shoulder. “Robin and I’ll steal you some breakfast tomorrow if you want a lie in.”

As Gwen went back over to her own side of the room, Aurora felt a sudden surge of gratitude and affection for the girl. At the start of the year she would never have imagined any of this. She shook her head. She’d have to see Potter tomorrow when he was up. Not to apologise - maybe to apologise? Did she have to apologise? Potter would have gotten himself in trouble regardless of her being there, but she still felt bad seeing it happen. This was a mess.

Even when Gwen turned out the lights, Aurora found it hard to get to sleep.

She slept through breakfast and didn’t have the courage to crawl out of bed for lunch, but Pansy and Draco all but broke her door down and hauled her out. “What happened?” Pansy demanded immediately. “They’re saying Potter fought the Dark Lord and you were there!”

“And the Dark Lord was Quirrel? And Potter killed him! Killed him!”

Aurora nodded numbly. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess he did.”

“What happened? Why were you there, Aurora?”

“The thing they were hiding was the Philosopher’s Stone. You know I love Alchemy.”

“So you tried to steal it?” Pansy was aghast but Draco looked almost impressed.

“Not steal,” she mumbled. “I just wanted to study it.” Draco snorted. “I did! Honestly! And then Potter was there with Weasley and Granger, and I couldn’t just leave them stuck there - Weasley actually came in quite handy with the chess board -“

“Chess board?”

“But then they left me, Potter went forward and the other two went back. I had to wait ages to get through, I thought they’d be gone by then, but... I guess I arrived just in time.”

“In time to what?”

“Dumbledore said I saved his life?”

Draco’s eyes widened. “Why’d you do that?”

“I wasn’t going to let You-Know-Who kill him, was I? And then Dumbledore showed up anyway, so I took Potter to the Hospital Wing. He’s alright, I think.”

“He is,” Pansy said. “Well, as far as I’ve heard. The Weasleys had most of Gryffindor told by the end of breakfast - those twins wouldn’t stop talking about it.”

Aurora laughed humourlessly. “Yeah.”

“You’ve lost twenty house points, too,” Draco said.

“Ugh, like that matters!” Pansy scolded. “You are okay, aren’t you? Tearston wouldn’t tell us much, she’s useless.”

“She’s not,” Aurora said, shaking her head. “She’s been good to me. She stayed awake waiting last night.” She shook her head and put it in her hands. “I was so stupid.”

“Stupid?”

“Going after the stone. I - obviously he was trying to stop someone else getting it. Obviously there was something going on that I didn’t know about. I should have just left it be and read about it!”

“What difference would it have made?” Pansy asked, shrugging. “Sounds like Potter made his own decision to play the hero.”

“Yeah,” Draco told her. “It’s hardly your fault Potter’s an idiot.”

“Yes, but... I don’t know, I feel bad.”

“You’re just tired. You should have just left him,” Draco told her. “Listen, it’s the Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw match later. Come down and watch it with us - they’ve no reserve, they’ll get hammered, and I can’t wait to see it.”

“They only need a reserve because Potter’s in the Hospital Wing,” Aurora said sharply.

“They don’t stand a chance.” Draco sounded happy about it, and it rubbed Aurora the wrong way. She looked at him, frowning.

“You two go,” she said. “I don’t want to watch.”

“Come on, Aurora-“

“No, really. Go.”

“Come on, Draco,” Pansy said quietly, pulling him to his feet. She seemed to consider Aurora carefully. “Don’t do anything stupid, will you?”

“Trust me,” she said bitterly. “I’m staying right here.”

As Draco had predicted, Gryffindor lost terribly to Ravenclaw, winning the Quidditch Cup for Slytherin. Dinner was a raucous affair as a result, though Aurora didn’t feel quite like celebrating. Potter wasn’t at the Gryffindor Table, and Weasley and Granger looked quite worried. She considered going to speak to them, but didn’t. What would she have to say? Sorry I was there and you weren’t. Sorry I was there at all. It wasn’t her fault, but it felt so strange and horrid.

She didn’t want to speak to Potter, and at any rate he wouldn’t be able to respond or probably even hear her. But back in her room that night, she glanced through her old letters and pictures, and that small collection she’d managed to get out of her father’s room. The picture of the man and woman she knew now to be James and Lily Potter. She held it carefully in her hands, heart heavy. Why should she give it to him? But why, also, shouldn’t she?

“I’ll be back in a minute,” she told Gwen, who gave her a wary look. “Nothing dangerous, I promise.”

“It had better not be,” Gwen said, shaking her head as Aurora left.

This would be a quick visit. There were no visitors by Potter’s bedside, and though Madam Pomfrey looked surprised to see her, she let Aurora in. “He isn’t responding to anyone yet, dear,” she said. “It might be tomorrow before he wakes.”

“That’s alright,” she said quietly. He had more colour about him now, which was a good sign. “I won’t be long, I just.” She held the picture awkwardly. Madam Pomfrey frowned but then seemed to realise what it was. “I thought... He might like to see it.”

The old nurse’s eyes softened. “Put it on his table, dear. Next to the chocolate frogs, there. And I’ll make sure it isn’t disturbed.”

Aurora set the worn picture down gently, smoothing the corners. “Thank you. And, er, Madam Pomfrey? You won’t tell him I’m the one who brought it will you?”

Madam Pomfrey shook her head. “It’s safe with me, Miss Black. Now get to dinner, please.”

The end of term feast was on Tuesday evening, the night before they went home. Exam results were distributed that afternoon. Aurora had received two Os (Transfiguration and Astronomy), four Es (Charms, Potions, History of Magic and Defense Against the Dark Arts) and an A in Herbology. It could have been better, especially Herbology, but she was still pleased. It would be onwards and upwards from here. Pansy had failed Charms, and she was furious about it. Aurora and Gwen had packed their trunks together during the day, trying to sort whose books were whose. “It’s not like we can’t figure it out later,” Gwen laughed, but Aurora was insistent on doing things right.

“Aurora Black?” a voice asked. One of the sixth year prefects had poked her head around the door. “Dumbledore wants to see you in his office. He says the password’s sherbet lemons.”

“Oh.” Aurora winced. “Great.”

Gwen winced in sympathy as the prefect left. “Good luck.”

It took her a while to find Dumbledore’s office, marked by a large stone gargoyle. It scraped aside when she said the password and she hurried up. His door was already open when she reached the top of the stairs, and Dumbledore sat behind his desk. The office momentarily distracted Aurora. It was filled with all manner of eccentric items, spinning around and sparkling. He had a phoenix, too, who preened himself on a perch by the window. He was gorgeous.

“Miss Black,” Dumbledore greeted pleasantly. “Please, sit down.” She did so nervously. “First, I thought it prudent to update you on Mr Potter’s condition. He is now awake and quite happy in the Hospital Wing; he will be joining us for the leaving feast this evening.”

“Oh, good,” she said, sighing in relief. “And is - is the stone and everything alright?”

Dumbledore nodded. “Quite alright. The stone has been removed and will soon be destroyed.”

“What?” She stared at him, aghast. “You can’t destroy it! What about Flamel?”

“Nicholas has lived a long and full life,” Dumbledore told her, “as has his wife, Perenelle. They have agreed this is the best course of action.”

“But - but - it’s so important! You can’t just get rid of it!”

“Miss Black.” Dumbledore looked at her pointedly. “You do not have a say in this.”

“I - I know, but it’s still... It’s the most important artefact in Alchemy. You can’t just get rid of it.”

“That is for Nicholas and Perenelle to decide. I appreciate your passion on the subject, but that is not why I called you here.” He sighed. “I cannot make you stay with a family you do not wish to, as you have no legally named guardian. However, as you are still under the age of seventeen, you will have to stay with a Wizarding family, whether of your choosing or of the Ministry’s. There is one Wizarding orphanage, mainly filled with children younger than you.”

“Oh,” she said. “I - I don’t really want to go to an orphanage, Professor. I am capable-“

“In the eyes of the law,” he said sternly, “you must remain with a family or at an orphanage. In addition to your cousin Andromeda, Ignatius’ niece Molly Weasley has offered to take you in if need be.”

“I don’t think her son would like that,” Aurora said, thinking of his face if she went home with them tomorrow. And she knew the Weasleys weren’t well off. She wasn’t being judgmental, not at all, but she didn’t want to put them to any bother. “I - if I really have to choose one, and I can’t be with the Malfoys, I suppose I’ll stay with Andromeda?”

Dumbledore looked immensely relieved. “I am glad to hear it, Miss Black. I will inform the Tonkses at once.” He smiled at her. “Now, I am sure you still have some packing to do before the Hogwarts Express leaves tomorrow. Enjoy what is left of the term.”

Taking that as her dismissal, Aurora stood up, going to the door. She paused. “Professor?”

“Yes?”

“You worked with Flamel, didn’t you? You were his apprentice.”

“Why, yes. Indeed I was.”

“How come there isn’t an Alchemy class at Hogwarts? There is at Beauxbatons.”

Dumbledore smiled. “It is reserved for sixth and seventh years only, due to the nature and complexity of the magic. If it remains an interest of yours, I would recommend studying Ancient Runes and Arithmancy in your third year. Fascinating subjects.”

“Oh, right.” She smiled at him. “Thanks, Professor.”

“And here we are at the end of another year!” Dumbledore beamed around at the students in the Great Hall. “How fast they seem to go.”

“And I must trouble you with an old man’s waffle before we can tuck into our delicious feast. What a year this has been! Hopefully your heads are a little fuller than they were. You will have plenty of time over the Summer to empty them again.” People laughed around the hall and Aurora smiled faintly. “Now as I understand it, the House Cup here needs awarding. The points are as stands: Gryffindor in fourth place with three hundred and two points.” There was some polite, scattered applause from around the hall. Draco looked entirely too pleased with himself, seeing as he had been the reason they lost so many points. “Hufflepuff house in third place with a total of three hundred and fifty two points.” A louder applause this time, but the Hufflepuff Table still looked slightly dejected. “In second place, Ravenclaw, with four hundred and twenty six points!” A greater cheer rose up. Draco puffed his chest out proudly and the Slytherin House all sat grinning as they waited for their points to be called. Aurora grinned, too. After everything that had happened, it still felt good to be able to celebrate with her housemates and friends. “And in first place is Slytherin House, with a grand total of four hundred and fifty two points!”

The whole table erupted into great cheers and a load of stamping. Draco and Pansy were both stood up, beaming, along with many of the others. The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs applauded politely, but the Gryffindors did not; Aurora scowled across the hall at them. “Yes, yes,” Dumbledore called over the Hall. “Well done, Slytherin, well done, Slytherin. However, recent events must be taken into account and some last minute points handed out.”

The room went very still and quiet. Aurora stared at the Headmaster. What last minute points? “Let me see. First, to Mr. Ronald Weasley.” Her stomach dropped. “For the best played game of chess Hogwarts has ever seen, I award Gryffindor House fifty points.” Fifty? For chess? She’d won the chess before, where were her points?

“Second, to Miss Hermione Granger, for the use of cool logic in the face of danger, I award Gryffindor House another fifty points.” The Gryffindor Table seemed to be on the verge of rioting, they were cheering so loud; and so, Aurora noticed with a sick feeling in her stomach, were Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff.

“Thirdly, to Mr Harry Potter, for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award fifty points.”

Aurora felt like her worst fears were being confirmed, but she added quickly. Gryffindor and Slytherin were now tied for the House Cup, because Potter and his friends had won back everything they’d lost. But surely that was it. Surely, she thought, Dumbledore might award her something for her role, even if she hadn’t gone down with the same intentions as the rest. He held his hand up for silence again and she breathed in. This was it. “It takes a great deal of courage,” Dumbledore was saying, “to stand up to our enemies. But an even greater deal to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr Neville Longbottom.”

Aurora felt her heart sink into the pit of her stomach as the hall erupted into cheers. “What?” Draco said. “Longbottom? They - they’re in front of us now! He can’t do that!”

But it seemed he could. “And so,” Dumbledore said with a smile, “it seems we are in need of a change of decoration.” He clapped his hands and Aurora closed her eyes as a great ripple of power ran through the hall. The Gryffindors were screaming themselves hoarse, and she felt bitter anger in her stomach. They’d won. They’d won and she’d gotten nothing. After all of Slytherin’s work, Dumbledore had taken their cup away from them like that. It was humiliating was what it was.

“I can’t believe he’s done this,” Pansy said. “I can’t believe it!”

But it seemed they had to. When she opened her eyes Aurora saw that even the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were cheering their failure and loss, yelling and beaming, most of the hall on their feet. It made her angry, just a little bit. Even the teachers were beaming and applauding, and everyone seemed so happy that they’d lost. “This isn’t fair,” Aurora muttered. “This so isn’t bloody fair!”

“It’s the Potter Effect,” Draco declared, still horrified. “He breaks all the rules and he still wins! You should have left him down there, Aurora, I told you it was foolish.”

She glared across the hall at Harry Potter, who didn’t seem to care at all. He was now crowd surfing and relishing every second of the attention on him, three quarters of the hall enraptured by him and his stupid achievements. Aurora couldn’t even look at him anymore, or Dumbledore.

The feast was an awful ordeal. “Bad luck, Black,” Marcus Flint said with a scowl as he passed her at the end of the feast. “I thought after you being involved old Dumbledore might have let us win, but he’s always had it out for us Slytherins.” He shook his head.

“Yeah,” Aurora muttered. “I can see that alright.

And then before Aurora knew it they were leaving. “You must come and visit me,” Draco said. “I would have much preferred you to stay, but Father wouldn’t permit it... But I do want to see you.”

“Me, too,” Pansy said. “I’m not sure I trust these Tonkses.”

“Mother doesn’t like to talk about Aunt Andromeda,” Draco said sniffily. “She married a Muggleborn. Hufflepuff. I don’t know what the daughter’s like.”

“She seemed nice,” Aurora told them. “I suppose I’ll just have to see what happens.”

She sat with the whole group of them on the train - Draco and Pansy, and Blaise and Theodore and Crabbe and Goyle, and Millicent and Daphne and Lucille. The conversation was somewhat stiff, everyone still upset about their House Cup loss and furious on Aurora’s behalf. Gwen was somewhere along the other end with Robin Oliphant, and Aurora went to see them later on for a much more relaxed conversation and multiple explosive games of snap.

“You will write to me, won’t you?” Gwen asked Aurora as they pulled closer to London. “It’ll be so weird not seeing you for two months.”

“Course I’ll write,” Aurora assured her with a laugh. “I think the Tonkses have an owl - they must do.” She shrugged. “I’ll find a way.”

“You had better,” Gwen told her, and they continued on happily until Aurora had to return to the other compartment to get her trunk.

She hauled it off the train as it came to a stop, searching the platform for Nymphadora Tonks’ distinctive turquoise hair. She couldn’t spot it anywhere, but then a voice shouted, “Aurora!” and she turned around. Nymphadora was standing there, hair a bright violet now, and her nose a tad different, but it was definitely Nymphadora.

“Oh,” she said, hurrying over. “Sorry, I didn’t recognise you.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry about that. Mum sent me - I’m just out of training.”

“Training?”

“As an Auror,” she explained. “Mad-Eye’s been working me to death in Stealth class, but anyway.” She grinned. “How’d your term go?”

“Er, alright.” It was very much not alright, but Nymphadora was freaking her out because she was smiling so much. “I guess.”

“Good.” Nymphadora lifted Aurora’s trunk for her and grinned when she noticed Stella. “Is that your cat? She’s lovely.”

“Oh, that’s Stella,” Aurora said, smiling as she gathered her in her arms. “Say hello?”

Stella purred and Nymphadora made a very bad imitation in greeting. “Animals don’t tend to like me much, especially cats. I’m too clumsy, old McGonagall hated it.” She grinned. “Come on then, Mum and Dad are waiting. She’s going to fuss over you like mad, I hope you know.”

“Oh.”

“Hey. You’ll be alright. I mean, I guess it’ll be weird, but you can be like my cute little sister.”

Aurora stared at her. “I am not cute.”

Nymphadora grinned. “Even that was cute. Come on, munchkin.”

“Munchkin?” What was a munchkin?

“Oh, you won’t have seen the Wizard of Oz. Muggles have very funny ideas about magic. You’ll see, Dad’s got a wicked video collection.”

And with that she led her out of the platform and got Aurora to grab onto her arm. “Ready now? Don’t let go.”

“I know how to Apparate, Nymphadora.”

She looked at her. “Don’t call me Nymphadora.”

Aurora smirked. This would be very interesting, indeed.


	20. Friends Again

The Tonks household was interesting. The house itself was a nice, a cottage surrounded by woodland with a large garden. Andromeda hurried out of the house when Aurora and Nymphadora arrived, followed by a short, cheerful looking man with light brown hair. “Nymphadora, there you are! And Aurora!”

Andromeda was smiling as she greeted her daughter, who muttered, “It’s Dora,” but grinned anyway.

“Dumbledore told me about what you got up to at the end of term,” Andromeda said, and there was an interested gleam in her dark eyes. Aurora smiled awkwardly.

“Oh, right.”

“I must say it all sounded very impressive.” Aurora flushed.

“Mum, you’re embarrassing her,” Nymphadora said.

“You two come inside now,” said Nymphadora’s father. “I’m Ted.”

Aurora nodded as she followed him inside, while Andromeda and Nymphadora carried the trunk between them. Their house was a lot more homely than any of the others Aurora had stayed in. She might have said it was small, but it was more cozy than anything else. Sunlight came in through the wide windows and illuminated armchairs and sofas covered with brightly coloured cushions. “You have the old guest room,” Andromeda told her, “next to Nymphadora’s. It’s a bit small, but I hope it’ll be alright.”

“Oh, of course,” Aurora said, smiling politely. “I really don’t want to be a bother, it was so kind of you to take me in.”

“You’re family,” said Andromeda, though her smile was a little strained.

“Come on,” Nymphadora said, grinning. “I’ll levitate your trunk up the stairs for you.”

“Dora, are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“I can do it, Dad! I’m an Auror now.”

“A training Auror,” Andromeda reminded her, and Nymphadora huffed loudly.

“I got an O in my Charms N.E.W.T.! Aurora, I promise I won’t break anything.”

Aurora grinned despite herself. This household was very different to grandmother’s or Arcturus’ or Lucretia’s, but part of her liked their casual familiarity. She grinned, watching carefully as Nymphadora screwed up her face in concentration and levitated her trunk up the narrow staircase onto the first floor, and along the hall into a room with a large round window, a single bed and a wardrobe and desk. It smelled of fresh paint.

“Mum wanted to put up snake decorations in this place,” Nymphadora said. “Since you’re a Slytherin like her, but Dad and I said that might just freak you out if you woke up in the night with a snake staring at you.”

Aurora laughed. “Yeah, I think it might.” She was quiet for a second before asking, “What house were you in then? You must have been at Hogwarts not long ago?”

“I left the year before you started,” Nymphadora said. “Me and Dad are both Hufflepuffs, and proud of it.” She grinned, setting Aurora’s trunk down gently in the carpet. “Do you want a hand unpacking?”

“I’ll be fine,” Aurora said.

Nymphadora lingered in the doorway for a minute, looking at Aurora appraisingly. Then she shrugged. “Alright. Well, come down once you’re ready and you can give us a hand with dinner.”

Aurora unpacked efficiently, because she had packed the same way. Her wardrobe was organised perfectly by colour and season, her books alphabetically by subject and then author, and everything else placed strategically so that nothing in the room felt off balance. The photos she’d taken from Grimmauld Place last year went in a bottom drawer hidden inside her thick Slytherin scarf. She wondered for a moment if Andromeda or Ted might be able to point out which of the women was her mother, but pushed the thought aside. She didn’t want to show anyone else those pictures; she’d only given Potter the picture of his parents because he had no way to know she had given it to him and she’d felt bad. Not that he’d even gotten so much as a house point taken off him.

Rolling her eyes, Aurora ran her hands over her Slytherin scarf and shut the drawer, tucked her wand into the pocket of her robe, and pushed the closed trunk against a wall before going downstairs to help with dinner as Nymphadora had asked. She’d never made a dinner before - the house elves did that usually, or Ignatius Prewett, who didn’t trust anyone else in the kitchen - but she supposed just helping couldn’t be too difficult, and she was good at Potions, too.

It turned out she didn’t have to do much. Andromeda and Ted did the majority of the work, while Nymphadora was dismissed after almost tipping over a bubbling cauldron and proceeded to give Aurora a tour of the house and garden instead.

“I crashed a broom into that tree a couple of years ago,” she pointed out, gesturing to one that looked rather gnarled and dented. “Mum went mental at me but I got onto the Quidditch team anyway. Do you play?”

“Yeah, I did, but girls aren’t allowed on the Slytherin team.”

“Really? Why?”

She shrugged. “Cause the captain’s an idiot and doesn’t understand how to make proper use of his resources.”

Nymphadora laughed, beaming at her. “Sounds about right. You got a broom?”

“Sort of. I normally used Ignatius’, but...” She looked down. “Not much point getting my own if I’m not going to play at school anyway, is there?”

“Suppose not when the school brooms are alright. I’ve still got my old spare Cleansweep in the back if you ever fancy a fly with me at some point.”

“Thanks, Nymphadora.”

“Dora,” she corrected. “Mum says it’s weird if you call me Tonks, so you can call me Dora. I hate Nymphadora, it’s just Mum always insists on using it.” She rolled her eyes.

“Oh. Right. Sorry.”

Nymphadora - Dora - shrugged. “S’alright. Here, I’ll show the flower patch. Mum’s dead proud of it.”

The Tonkses cooked very well, and though at first Aurora felt terribly out of place, she could tell they were all going to an effort to make her feel welcome in their home over the course of the Summer. Andromeda had called her family. It was strange to have family she didn’t even know, who had been written out of their records. But she supposed her parents had been, too. Her mother had never even been in the records.

She still didn’t like living there. But she had to admit that she liked them, Dora’s loudness and Ted’s bad jokes and Andromeda’s despairing, humorous smiles.

She kept up a regular correspondence with her friends, too, even though she hadn’t seen them. From Gwen she had found out that Hermione Granger had come top of their year in almost every class, even beating Aurora in Transfiguration, which she was furious. Pansy and Draco both agreed it was favouritism on McGonagall’s part - Draco’s father had reportedly been furious that a Muggleborn girl had beaten his son in every subject - which only made Aurora want to work harder. They were both excited for Pansy’s family’s gala, as it would be Draco’s first time attending. Pansy promised Aurora would receive an invitation the next year, along with Lucille Travers and Millicent Bulstrode, but it didn’t bother Aurora too much. She wasn’t really sure how the Tonkses would take to her attending a pureblood gala, anyway. It really didn’t seem like their scene. Draco did promise they’d meet sometime in August, though his parents were very busy, and Aurora was greatly looking forward to being reunited with her friends.

She realised, as this was the first time in ten months that she’d been separated entirely from them all, that she missed her friends painfully. She’d slept in the same room as Gwen every night, and spent most of her evenings with Draco and Pansy, and seen them every day. It took days of being on her own - with only the Tonkses, who she barely knew - to think on the fact that even in their last few months at Hogwarts, she had drifted from them rather. After losing Lucretia and Ignatius and becoming the only ‘true Black’ left, she had been tightly wound up for months, annoyed by many small things, and she realised she’d taken it out on Draco, the one person who had stood by her the most.

There had been few moments where Aurora had had to think about how kind or unkind she’d treated people; her main concern had always been the way they treated and thought of her. There weren’t many people left whose opinions she truly cared about: Draco, Pansy, perhaps Daphne and Gwendolyn, and Neville Longbottom, though that was mainly because she felt guilty at how he always seemed to be scared of her. But whether Draco and Pansy had taken real issue with how she’d been acting, she decided that she was almost a teenager now and she ought to grow up and put the time behind her.

She was grateful when, three weeks into July, she convinced Andromeda to take her to Malfoy Manor to see Draco and Pansy. At first she hadn’t though Andromeda would agree, given her frosty bordering on non-existent relationship with Narcissa, but she seemed to realise how badly Aurora wanted to visit her friends, and grudgingly agreed.

The meeting between the two sisters was cold and stilted. Aurora wanted to get out of there as fast as she could, and Andromeda left very quickly ; but Narcissa completely changed personality when she spoke to Aurora, beaming at her. “You’ve gotten so tall, Aurora. You both have, I could hardly believe it when Draco came home for the holidays. Pansy hasn’t arrived yet, but Draco assures me he and his room are in a condition to receive guests.”

She smiled warmly and Aurora took that as her cue to leave, grinning back at Narcissa. She knew her way around Malfoy Manor like it were her own home, and she liked the familiarity of the place that had formed so much of her childhood. Draco was her best and oldest friend, and he and his family, while unable to take her in as Andromeda had, had truly done a lot for her. It was with that in mind that she knocked politely on Draco’s door, stepped back nervously, and shrieked lightly when she was confronted by Draco sweeping her into a hug.

“Merlin!” she cried, laughing. “What’s gotten you so affectionate?”

“I haven’t seen you in forever!” he complained. “I can’t believe it, Mother wanted so desperately to have you come here to live with us, you wouldn’t believe the argument she and Father had over it.” He drew Aurora quickly inside his room. “What’s her sister like, she never speaks about Andromeda?”

His voice was hushed but Aurora could tell he was reluctantly curious. “She isn’t too bad. She’s very nice, and her daughter’s loud and rather inelegant, but she’s quite funny too. I like them, to be honest.” She smiled weakly. “I’ve missed you, though. It’s so strange living with them!”

“Oh, I can’t imagine! Mother says Andromeda married a Muggleborn.”

“Ted is nice,” Aurora said defensively. “They’re just... Different. They’ve no interest in pureblood society and gossip, I feel like I’ve no idea of anything that’s happened apart from what I found out from your and Pansy’s letters.”

Draco winced. “That sounds horrid. You’re here now, though. That’s what matters.”

“How have your parents been?” Aurora asked him. “About your exams?”

He pulled a face. “Mother doesn’t mind awfully, she says it’s clear I’ve done the best I can and she’s always proud of me, but Father isn’t too pleased. I ought to have been top - or at least not lost to Granger in every class.” His eyes flashed with frustration. “Even Potions! She beat me! It’s ridiculous!”

Aurora nodded. She, too, had been upset at her placement in Potions: fifth. It wasn’t a bad position, but she couldn’t help feeling like she’d deserved better, considering how she’d observed the rest of her class. She didn’t understand how she hadn’t done the best when she had the best understanding and some of the best Potions. Granger was no better than her in class, and it was infuriating watching the teacher’s pet win every time. “The teachers all just like her, that’s the only reason she does so well.” Well, the only reason she did better than Aurora, she thought. To deny that Granger was intelligent would simply be a lie, and she wouldn’t have been surprised if she was the smartest in Gryffindor House - but not in the whole year group. It was initiating beyond belief. “Even Snape likes her better than he likes me!”

“I know, I’ve complained to Father about it, he’s an old friend of Snape and I think it’s shameful how you are treated in that class. He treats you like he treats Potter.” Draco scoffed. “Now, there’s a story for you.”

“What?”

“Word is, he’s been sent back home.”

“And?” Aurora wasn’t sure where this was going.

“To live with Muggles. Can you imagine - the boy who lived, staying with Muggles!” He sneered. “I’d run away.”

“Well, I’d much rather he stayed there,” Aurora said, pulling a face. “I’m still furious about the House Cup!”

“Again,” Draco said. “Favouritism.”

A second later the door flew open and Pansy came in, grinning. “There you are,” she said to Aurora, a smile splitting her face. “Oh, I’ve missed you so much!”

Aurora giggled. “I’ve never seen you so cheerful.”

“Oh, be quiet.” She hugged Aurora tightly, once, and then Draco. “Now, sit, I want to hear all about this new family you’ve been made to stay with.”

Aurora and Draco exchanged amused looks as Pansy bossed them onto the cluster of chairs in the corner of Draco’s room. It felt rather like old times, sitting together in these familiar surroundings, gossiping about everyone and everything around them. Aurora had missed it. Even despite living with them all year, she had missed her friends. It was curious but it was true.

-*

Gwen’s letters tended to be a lot less regular than Draco’s or Pansy’s, and her handwriting was worse than Aurora remembered it being during school time. She also didn’t write with normal ink, for her letters curved and flowed differently, and Aurora didn’t quite understand how. Around the end of the month when Pansy and Draco were both caught up in gala preparations, Gwen wrote to say that her mother would like to meet Aurora and the Tonkses - whom she referred to as ‘normal wizards’ even though Aurora wasn’t sure they were - and would Aurora like to stay a couple of nights? She thought on it for ages. The idea of living in a Muggle house was a strange one - Aurora had been surrounded by magic her whole life and didn’t think she knew how not to be. Even living with the Tonkses was weird enough.

Still. Andromeda wasn’t so bad. Aurora even liked her, though she was about as different from Lucretia and Walburga as she could be. She didn’t think they’d mind if she visited Gwen for a little while.

“Andromeda?” she asked, somewhat nervously, as the four of them sat in the lounge at night - Dora filling in coursework, Andromeda humming to the radio as she read the paper, Ted fiddling with some contraption for work, and Aurora reading up on constellations for her Astronomy homework. “I was wondering, I received a letter from one of my friends earlier today?”

“Yes?” Andromeda looked relieved that Aurora had mentioned a friend.

“My roommate, Gwendolyn. She invited me to stay with her for a couple of days at the start of August, I wondered if I might go?”

“What’s her surname?”

“Er, Tearston. You won’t know her family, they’re - well, she doesn’t know if she’s muggleborn or not - but she was adopted by Muggles.”

“Well, I suppose you can go if you’d like, provided we meet her parents first.”

Aurora nodded eagerly, relieved that she’d get to see a familiar face soon. “Brilliant! I’ll write back to her tonight!”

With something to look forward to and the promise of finally seeing someone she knew, Aurora’s mood improved considerably. She flew through her summer homework, especially with the useful input from Dora, who seemed keen to help her out. Dora took out flying a couple of times too, around the nearby hills where the Muggles wouldn’t see them. The old Cleansweep performed well, but Aurora still wanted a broom of her own, even if it would likely make no difference to whether or not she got on the Slytherin school team. She supposed she could afford it; more than afford it, really. Even so, she didn’t see the point of buying something so expensive when she wouldn’t get to properly show it off.

On the second of August, Andromeda Apparated Aurora and her overnight bag to the town of Bearbrooks just outside of Newcastle. “I do wish we had been able to connect to their Floo,” Andromeda said with a frown. “But I suppose it can’t be helped when it comes to Muggle households. We always had to Apparate Nymphadora to her grandparents, until she finally got her license. They found it greatly amusing, so she was quite happy.”

Andromeda smiled at Aurora. “You said it was number thirty two?” She nodded. “I think it must be that way then. Let’s see if we’re in the right place.”

Gwen’s town was a very nice but very Muggle sort of place, where all of the houses looked the same - clean, large, white walled with well-flowered lawns - and dark, long wires hung over the street. A couple of boys kicked a worn black and white ball between them at the bottom of the road, and a cluster of women sat in a patio at the front of a house, chattering loudly with glasses of white wine. They looked at Aurora and Andromeda strangely as they passed - Andromeda was much better with Muggle fashion than Aurora, who until recently hadn’t the faintest idea what ‘jeans’ were - laughed and went back to gossiping.

Aurora counted the metal numbers on the houses as they passed by. Twenty-six, twenty-eight, thirty. There was thirty two; red curtains hung in the window and there was a light from the middle of the room. Andromeda knocked crisply on the door, Aurora standing nervously behind her. It seemed to take ages for anyone to open the door, but then a tall, dark-haired woman appeared, smiling. “Oh, are you Aurora?”

She nodded. “That’s me. This is Andromeda, my...”

“I’m looking after Aurora at the minute,” Andromeda said, and the woman nodded.

“Yes, Gwendolyn told us about what happened last year.” She smiled warmly at Aurora. “I’m Lucy, Gwen’s mother. I think she’s still arguing with Yasmine upstairs. Gwen!”

“Coming, Mum!” Gwen’s voice rang out, and a second later she was running down the stairs, followed by a slightly older looking girl with brown skin and long black hair. She looked at Aurora curiously, as Gwen ran to the door. “Ugh, how are you?” she asked, all but launching herself at Aurora in a hug. She stumbled back, laughing.

“Gwendolyn,” Lucy scolded. “Careful. Would you like to come in for a cup of tea, Andromeda?”

“That would be lovely,” Andromeda said, following Lucy inside. Gwen looped her arm through Aurora’s.

“Come on, I’ll show my room. You’re staying in with me, Yas is sharing with Jessica instead.”

Aurora looked at Andromeda, who nodded permission for her to go on upstairs with Gwen. Yasmine who had come down with her earlier was scowling on the landing. “So this is your witchy friend?”

“Obviously,” Gwen said, pulling a face. “Aurora, this is my sister Yasmine. She’s thirteen and thinks it means she’s in charge.”

“Well, it does,” Yasmine said. “Seeing as I’m the oldest.” She rolled her eyes. “Jess is in her room if you want to say hello in a bit.” Then she went downstairs, presumably to speak to Lucy and Andromeda.

“She’s so annoying,” Gwen said, pushing open the nearest door into her bedroom - painted a pale, cool blue, with little pale green stars dotting one of the walls. “Well, this is it anyway. Most of my school stuff’s in the cupboard - my wand and everything I can actually use that I don’t need for essays - because Mum took that note way too seriously.”

“She should,” Aurora said, placing her own wand on the windowsill. “It’s illegal for us to use magic outside of Hogwarts while under seventeen unless in exceptional circumstances where our safety is threatened.”

“Actually illegal?” Gwen groaned. “I was hoping you’d tell her it was wrong!”

“Sorry,” Aurora laughed. “We’ll be back in a month anyway.”

“Oh, yeah, have you heard anything on the new Defense teacher? I thought you might’ve.”

“Nothing,” Aurora said grimly. “Still, can’t be any worse than last year, can they?”

“I’d certainly hope not,” Gwen said. “Mum freaked when I told her. She doesn’t really get all of it - well, neither do I - but she said it didn’t sound very safe. She seemed a bit on the fence about sending me back, except I said it’d do more harm than good for me not to learn. I think it’s part of why she wanted to meet you and Andromeda. She wants to make sure everything’s, you know. Safe.”

Aurora hummed. “It is. But I suppose it is worrying. No one ever thought You-Know-Who could, you know, come back at all.”

“Oh, don’t say that,” Gwen said with a shudder. “Just dump your bag there and we can unpack later, I want to make sure Mum doesn’t embarrass me downstairs.”

Lucy and Andromeda, much to Aurora’s surprise, were getting on incredibly well, and laughing along with Yasmine when Aurora and Gwen went into the lounge. It was odd to see Andromeda in Muggle clothing in a Muggle house, and even weirder for Aurora to come to the realisation that she was also in Muggle clothing in a Muggle house. She wondered what her grandmother would have thought of that.

“There you are,” Lucy said. “Gwen, I was just showing Andromeda your old primary school photos.”

“You did what!” Gwen looked mortified. “Oh my God, Mum!”

Andromeda laughed. “My Nymphadora would have said the exact same. She’s training to be an Auror now, and she says she has a reputation to uphold.”

“Auror?” Lucy asked curiously.

“Yes. Oh, it’s a - a - oh, what’s the word?” She looked at Aurora expectantly, but she didn’t know. The Muggles didn’t have Aurors? Aurora looked at Gwendolyn, who shrugged.

“I don’t know what an Auror is.”

“Oh, It’s... Magical Law Enforcement, but very highly trained.”

“The police.”

“Yes!” Andromeda clicked her fingers. “The police. Oh, I can never remember all those strange Muggle terms, Ted tries his best, bless him. My husband’s from a Muggle family, the Tonkses from Suffolk, I don’t know if you might know them.”

Lucy frowned. “No, sorry, I don’t know anyone from Suffolk.”

“Ah.” Andromeda smiled.

“Mum,” a new voice whined, as footsteps came down the hall. “Daniel’s-“

A little girl with blonde hair stared in the doorway, eyes wide. “Is it the witches?”

Aurora stared at her. “Jessie,” Gwen said, “don’t be rude. I’m a witch too.”

“Yeah, but they’re - witchy witches. You don’t have the hats though.”

“Um,” Aurora said. “I do have a hat. I’m just not wearing it at the moment.”

Jessie pouted. “What’s Daniel doing, sweetie?”

“He kicked the ball over the fence again and now he’s crying about it!”

“Tell him to go through next door, apologise, and get it back.”

“I did!”

“Then you do it yourself!”

Jessie made a frustrated sound and stomped outside. Gwen laughed. “The two of them are so annoying. All they do is play football and fight. Very Gryffindor of them.”

Aurora laughed, as did Andromeda. Lucy and Yasmine looked politely perplexed, listening intently as the three witches described together the house dynamics at Hogwarts. It was beginning to grow dark when Andromeda was satisfied enough to leave Aurora for the weekend, with the instruction to be ready for eleven on Sunday morning. Aurora waved after her and grinned when she turned to Gwen.

“This is going to be so fun,” Gwen said, grinning. “I bet there’s so many foods you haven’t even eaten, and I’m going to show you every TV show. East Enders is on tonight.”

“I don’t think Aurora will really want to watch Eastenders, Gwen,” Lucy said, laughing.

“What’s Eastenders?”

Gwen grinned. “Wild.”

Eastenders was indeed wild, not least because Aurora had no idea who any of the characters were. They spent Saturday playing football - well, Gwen and her siblings played, Aurora tried to understand the rules. Quidditch was much more civilised, she thought. Daniel, Gwen’s Little brother, had tackled Jessie to the ground more than once, and both of them wound up absolutely covered in mud. “Does this happen often?” Aurora asked Gwen, who laughed.

“Unfortunately, yes. We tend to leave the two of them to it when they started fighting. I don’t like getting a faceful of mud.”

For dinner, Gwen’s parents made pizza and ice cream, and Aurora was sure that even with the Tonkses she had never had such a wild, energetic and funny day. The siblings all spoke over each other, Gwen and Yasmine teasing Jessie relentlessly, then Jessie and Daniel teaming up to interrogate Aurora about being a ‘witchy witch’ and Gwen and Yasmine breaking into an argument about where Yasmine’s red shoes had gone. Aurora thought not for the first time what it would have been like if she had grown up with brothers and sisters. Of course, that possibility was a million worlds away. The closest thing she’d had to a brother was Draco. But looking around now, she found herself feeling what she’d felt a couple of times at the Tonkses - a longing for a steady, stable family. One to rely on, a father to tease and a mother to bicker with and siblings to squabble over clothes.

It was a silly thought.

Come Sunday morning, she was sad to leave, but went with the promise that she and Gwen would see each other again soon. “We’ll have to meet you when we collect Gwendolyn’s school supplies,” Lucy said anxiously to Andromeda. “For none of us could find the pub last time, and we only got about because that Professor McGonagall was with us.”

“Oh, well, we do have a telephone in the house,” Andromeda said. “I’m not much good with it, but Ted and Nymphadora can operate it alright. Give us a phone when the letters come, that way you know everything to get and can buy it all at once.”

Gwen whispered, “Do you know your way around the alley? McGonagall kept us to a very strict tour, but I wanted to get a better look at everything.”

“Don’t worry,” Aurora whispered, “I’ve been there loads of times. Mr Fortescue does excellent ice cream.”

Gwen beamed at her.


	21. Muggles in Diagon Alley

Gwen phoned the very day that their letters arrived from Hogwarts. They agreed to meet to go to Diagon Alley together on the nineteenth, and Andromeda offered to Apparate than there rather than having the Tearstons make the three hour journey to London.

Aurora and the Tonkses went to visit Gringotts beforehand, not only to retrieve money from her vaults but also to ensure her inheritance was in order. All appeared as she had assumed it would: she had inherited most of the Black family fortune, the rest going to Narcissa, as well as most of the family assets, properties, estates, and important jewellery pieces. She didn’t retrieve much in the way of jewellery because she would have little use for it at Hogwarts, but she did take a few interesting and magical looking pieces - a series of three necklaces held together by a strange serpentine key, a ring with a large onyx - and the most important piece of all. The Black crest ring.

It was pure silver, with small emeralds around the band and the family crest - a sword on the bottom, an arrow, and two stars, held by large dogs - with the motto toujours pur on the top, facing upwards. It was the ultimate mark of honour, and shrank magically to fit Aurora’s finger, as it would for anyone who had the rightful claim to the Black heirship. She’d been uncertain if it would at first, as she was the daughter of a disowned son, and it may instead choose Bellatrix or Narcissa, but the ring seemed to recognise not only her blood and legal status, but her breeding. She was a Black in everything she had been taught, and so she was a Black.

The ring, she knew from extensive study when she was younger, could only be worn by the Head of the House, which was now her. It had a variety of enchantments designed to protect and strengthen its bearer, and the complex magic was to make it especially attuned to other magical presences, especially Dark ones and threats. This could come in useful, but she also appreciated it for its beauty. When they made their way back down the alley, she examined the ring with scrutiny, enjoying the way the yellow sunlight caught the silver and seemed to send sparks into the air. It was gorgeous, and though Dora seemed to think it was too old, Aurora rather thought that was the point.

Five or so minutes later, Aurora waited anxiously with Dora in the Leaky Cauldron, waiting for Andromeda and Ted to arrive with Gwen and her mother. People were coming and going at a great pace, some through the Floo. She watched it intently for anyone she knew - Draco or Pansy or Daphne - but the next person she saw to come through was Ron Weasley, looking rather dishevelled. He stumbled out of the grate, and she ducked down so he wouldn’t spot her laughing.

Dora looked over in amusement. “Friend of yours?”

“Not really. Ron doesn’t like me.”

“Ron?” She glanced up, getting a look. “Oh, those are Bill and Charlie’s brothers aren’t they? Come and say hello.”

“I just said Ron-“

“Eh, he’s a Gryffindor isn’t he? I bet he is, they all were. He’ll be fine if you’re with me, I know all the family.”

“But Dora...”

She was already making her way over there, and it would just be impolite of Aurora to refuse to join her. Trying to hide her irritation, Aurora followed Dora to the growing cluster of red heads - Ron with the two twins, one of the Gryffindor prefects, and Mr and Mrs Weasley and their daughter who Aurora had met at Lucretia and Ignatius’ funeral. “Is that really Tonks?” Mrs Weasley asked, beaming as she came over. “Oh, how are you, dear? Charlie said you did well on your training exams.”

“I did alright, I suppose. Mad-Eye puts me through my paces but it pays off.”

“Moody? Oh, you didn’t say he was teaching you. And Aurora!” Mrs Weasley smiled, just noticing Aurora there. She waved awkwardly. “How are you doing, dear?”

“You know each other?” Ron Weasley asked, looking aghast.

“This is your great-uncle Ignatius’ great-niece, Ron.”

Weasley looked offended by the idea of being related to Aurora, no matter how distantly. There wasn’t even a blood relation, really. “Oh. Cool. Have you seen Harry anywhere?”

“Potter?” Aurora raised her eyebrows. “No. Why, what’s he done?”

“Nothing,” Weasley said quickly. “Come on, Dad we should find him, and Hermione, they must be here somewhere.”

“Oh, Ron, don’t go tearing off,” Molly Weasley said fretfully, as Weasley left with his older brothers. “Arthur, go with them. You stick with me Ginny, dear. Harry Potter’s a good friend of Ron’s,” she added to Dora, “he’s been staying with us for a few weeks, after his aunt-“ She broke off. “Well, the boys thought it would be best if he came to the Burrow for a little bit instead. He seems to have missed the grate on the Floo - his first time using it, you can imagine.”

“Oh, yeah,” Dora said, “my mum says I used to go missing all the time when I was little, kept turning up in the wrong places. Course, I still do that now when she’s trying to make tea.”

Aurora laughed, and Molly regarded her warmly. “And you, Aurora dear, how have you been holding up? The boys told us about the end of term.”

“Oh.” Aurora blinked, flushing. “Well, I’m alright, I’m just glad we all got out okay. And Dumbledore showed up right on time, too.”

“Even so, that was a very brave thing you did. I daresay I was worried about you from some of Dumbledore’s letters, but I’m glad you’re settled now.” Aurora smiled, first at Molly and then at Dora, who grinned back at her. “Oh, is that your mother coming over, Tonks? Who is that she’s with?”

Aurora glanced over. “Oh, that’ll be Gwen and her mother. Gwen’s my roommate at Hogwarts, her parents are Muggles, so they didn’t - they weren’t really sure they’d be able to get in alright.”

“Ah, of course. We were meant to be meeting the Grangers at Gringotts, I do hope they’ve made it alright. Andromeda!”

Upon realising Molly Weasley was there, Andromeda and Ted both hurried over, with Gwen and her mother in tow. “Who’s this?” Gwen whispered, glancing at Mrs Weasley.

“Weasley’s mum.”

“Really? How d’you know her?”

“We’re all related somehow.”

“Really?”

“That’s the pureblood way. My grandparents were cousins.”

“That is absolutely disgusting.”

“It’s just tradition.”

“Oh, and you must be a Muggle!” Mrs Weasley said, sounding quite delighted. “My husband Arthur works with Muggle Artefacts at the Ministry, he finds you all ever so interesting.”

Mrs Tearston blinked. “How lovely.”

Gwen looked rather uncomfortable, so Aurora suggested they move on into the alley. She had already gotten her gold from her vault, but they did still have to exchange Gwen’s Muggle money for galleons, which Ted had said he thought would take a while, if the goblins were as bothersome as they were when he was their age. Mrs Weasley and Ginny went to try and track down Potter, but Aurora and Gwen passed the rest of the Weasleys looking anxiously around the alley.

“Knowing him he’s gone off to Knockturn,” Aurora muttered under her breath.

“Knockturn?”

“Down there. It’s creepy, I’ve never been allowed down.”

“Sounds right up Potter’s alley.”

Aurora laughed. “Was that meant to be a pun?”

“Perhaps.” Gwen grinned, running up the steps into Gringotts bank, the sun catching her golden hair as it swung around her shoulders.

The goblins seemed to enjoy making the currency exchange difficult, as they didn’t regard Muggle pounds as real gold like they did their goblin-made galleons, and the goblin serving them got into a rather heated squabble with Gwen’s mum which Andromeda had to diffuse hastily. By the time they left Gringotts, it was almost time for Gilderoy Lockhart’s signing to start. Andromeda told Mrs Tearston about all of his books as they made the walk down to Flourish and Blotts.

“He’s the one whose books we have to get for class?” Gwen asked.

“Yeah. His writing’s average quality but the plots tend to be rather far-fetched and there are a few inaccuracies. Though I suppose that can be put down to creative license - all authors take some liberties.” Aurora wrinkled her nose. “I think he’s interesting but overrated, and Dora agrees.”

“Mad-Eye’s done a million times what Lockhart has,” Dora told them with a proud grin. “You don’t see him bragging about being in Witch Weekly.”

“Dora, Alastor Moody is in no state to win Witch Weekly’s best smile award,” Ted said, though he was grinning too. “Personally, I think Lockhart’s a bit of an idiot.”

“Ted!” Andromeda scolded with a frown. “He is interesting and the girls could learn something from him.”

“You’d learn loads more from Mad-Eye. Course, he’d probably call you both scrawny little imps.” Dora ruffled Aurora’s hair, which made her squirm, but she did appreciate the familiarity of the gesture. “And he’d be right.”

Aurora laughed disgruntedly as they ducked inside the bookshop, which was already full of people. The golden haired Gilderoy Lockhart stood up on a stage, posing for a camera. He didn’t look up to much when she saw him in person. “Come on girls, let’s get a bit nearer to the front.”

“Mum,” Dora whined. “It’s crowded with people we won’t be able to breathe. How about you watch him with Dad and Lucy and I’ll help the girls find their books.”

“Oh, alright, if you really don’t want to see him. But if you pick up a copy of Magical Me, mind and get it signed.”

Dora rolled her eyes as she tugged Aurora and Gwen away. “Middle aged witches are all mad for Lockhart,” she said with a sigh. “Right, you’ll need the next Standard Book Of Spells, won’t you?” She plucked two of those off the shelves, and was surprisingly efficient at finding the rest that they needed, although she did knock over a display of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, which Gwen seemed to find amusing.

“Right, that’s everything, apart from Lockhart’s lot. Shall we brave the crowd?”

They made to push back into the growing throng, but Aurora stopped suddenly when she saw who was on the podium with Lockhart. “Potter,” she muttered.

Gwen followed her gaze. “Oh, Jesus, what’s he done now?”

“When young Mr Potter here,” Lockhart said loudly, “stepped into this shop today to buy his copy of my new autobiography, Magical Me, he had no idea that he would be receiving a full collection of my signed works.” He flashed a smile for the camera. “Free of charge.”

“Prat,” Aurora said bitterly.

Dora nodded in agreement. “He’s really playing it up for the Prophet, isn’t he?”

“And what’s more,” Lockhart went on with a dizzying smile, “Come the new term at Hogwarts, he and his friends will be getting access to the real Magical me. I take great pride in announcing that this September, I will be taking up the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!”

Aurora stared, then stared some more. At least it explained the extensive book list. “Good luck,” Dora said, shaking her head. “Moody says he’s an idiot.”

Potter was handed a very large pile of Lockhart’s books, and Aurora glared at him. He caught her eye for a moment, before she scowled and he shook his head, moving back towards the Weasleys. “I think I see Mum over there,” Dora said, moving them along. “Oh, she looks excited, that’s not great. Dad’s going to make a bad joke now, just you wait - there he is.” Ted was grinning, and Andromeda shook her head at him, laughing reluctantly.

“Famous Harry Potter,” said a very familiar voice from nearby. Aurora turned around, seeing Draco standing with an overly smug smile that didn’t quite suit him. “Can’t even go into a bookshop without making the front page.”

“Draco?” Aurora said loudly.

He startled, turning to look at her. Potter and the Weasleys all turned too. Draco burst into a smile when he saw him, quite a change from his demeanour earlier. “Aurora!”

She grinned, bounding over with Gwen in tow. “How are you? How was the gala?”

“It was alright.” Draco shrugged. He lowered his voice. “I was just telling Scarhead here all about it.”

Aurora turned to Potter. He was glaring at her, and though she had a moment of hesitation, she smirked at him. “Enjoying a little spotlight, are we?”

“No,” Potter said stiffly, going red. Aurora laughed.

“Leave him alone,” Ginny Weasley said, surprising Aurora, and apparently Potter, too.

“Only a little teasing,” Aurora said lightly. “Come on, Draco, let’s go somewhere else to speak.”

She was about to lead him away, when his father appeared. Lucius was just as cold as always. “Ah,” he said softly. “Aurora. Yes, I did wonder when I’d next be seeing you...”

She forced herself to smile politely at her. “Afternoon, Mr Malfoy.”

“Dear me, Draco,” he said, surveying the Weasleys. “What interesting company to find yourself in.” His eyes fell on Gwen, who Aurora noticed looked incredibly uncomfortable. “And who is this?”

Gwen stared at him. “Gwendolyn Tearston.”

“Tearston?” He raised his shrbows, looking between her, Draco, and Aurora. “That isn’t a name I recognise.”

“Gwen’s a housemate of ours,” Aurora said quickly, for she knew what was going to follow that comment. “My roommate.”

Lucius sneered. “Is that so? Come, Draco, I find our present company... Lacking. In more ways than one.”

But Draco had noticed the ring on Aurora’s hand and his mouth fell open. “You got the ring!” he said, and Lucius turned around sharply. Potter and the Weasleys all looked rather bewildered, and Aurora smirked as she held her hand out to Draco.

“Of course I do.”

Draco stared. “I forgot you’d have it now. Gosh, how does it feel?”

“Not particularly powerful,” Aurora said, weighing her words. “More just... comfortable. I’m meant to wear it.”

Draco grinned. Weasley was staring at Aurora’s ring. “You’re really wearing that?” he spat. “I thought they’d have melted it down.”

She whipped around, narrowing her eyes. “Watch what you say, Weasley. This is my family’s legacy.” She sneered. “I’m sorry you don’t have one.”

Aurora was spared Ron Weasley’s wrath by Arthur Weasley’s voice cutting through the crowd. “Lucius Malfoy. Fancy seeing you here.” Aurora fell back, standing between Draco and Gwen. Potter was looking half-enraged and half-confused.

“Weasley.” Lucius said the name with disdain; it was just the same way Draco said it. “Is this your brood here?”

“Yes,” Mr Weasley said defensively. He gave Lucius a cold look. “

“I’m ever so glad you found time to come here,” Lucius said. “I hear you’ve been kept quite busy at the Ministry, with all your raids.” Mr Weasley tensed, but Aurora noticed Draco did too. “I’d say I hope they’re paying you overtime, but...” He plucked a textbook from Ginny Weasley’s cauldron and looked through it. It was dog-eared, with a worn cover, and was clearly second hand. “Evidently not.”

“Come on,” Gwen murmured to Aurora. “We should find Mum.”

Aurora gave Draco an apologetic look and a quiet promise that they’d see each other soon before she left. It seemed she’d done so just on time, for a fight had broken out just as they found Dora, and she was fairly certain Mr Weasley had started it.

“Ah, you’ve got everything,” Andromeda said with a smile as they approached. “Good, good. Your mother was just telling Ted about the latest news with the royal family, Gwen.”

“Oh, God.”

“It’s all very dramatic, I must say.”

“It is still the tabloids,” Mrs Tearston said. “But they say Diana’s causing trouble, and after all that scandal with Princess Anne, getting a divorce. What next? If Prince Charles goes the same way, it doesn’t bear thinking about.”

“Mum,” Gwen whined. “Let’s just pay for the books and go, no one else cares about the monarchy.”

“They’re a vital part of our consitutional-“

“Mum! Please! I want to see all the other witch shops and I told Jessie I’d get her something magical.”

“Alright,” Mrs Tearston said, shaking her head. “But you watch your tone when you’re talking to me.”

They paid quickly, and Aurora and Gwen went to get their robes fitted together with the promise that they’d meet everyone back at the Leaky Cauldron in an hour and a half. This gave them plenty of time to meander around the alley, popping into a variety of shops. Gwen was greatly intrigued by Gambol and Japes, and Aurora had to tug her away from a section on pimple removers. “It’s a joke shop, Gwen,” she said, “it’ll melt your face off. Besides, your skin’s fine.”

It was Quality Quidditch Supplies that Aurora really wanted to visit. The new Nimbus Two Thousand and One hung in the window display, with a sleek, gorgeous black handle. “It’s the best broom on the market,” she said with a sigh. “It’s lovely.”

“It’s alright,” Gwen said. “Does the broom really matter?”

“Some people say it does. The broom is only as good as its rider, but a faster broom with a good rider will still outstrip a slower broom with the same quality rider. It’s why Potter’s so bloody good - he had the Nimbus Two Thousand. But this thing’s a step up from that. Merlin, I wish I had an excuse to buy it.”

“It does look awfully expensive,” Gwen said. “But if you want it, buy it.”

“Oh, Andromeda would kill me.”

“Your money though.”

Aurora contemplated it for a minute, but then shook her head. “No. Maybe once Flint’s gone the new captain might give me a chance, and then I’ll get a decent broom. Dora has an old Cleansweep that does just fine.”

They did both end up getting some Slytherin Quidditch scarves and hats though, and Aurora bought Gwen a book about the Holyhead Harpies. “All-women Welsh Quidditch team,” she explained as they left. “They’re wonderful.”

Everyone was quite cheerful when they reunited in the pub, Dora greatly entertaining Mrs Tearston by turning her nose into a pig’s snout. “God I wish I could do that,” Gwen said. “Just change my appearance whenever I wanted. I’d turn into Snape and see if he’s capable of smiling.”

Aurora spluttered, grinning over a pint of Butterbeer. Dora caught her eyes with a grin, and she thought for a moment that this was alright. It was very different to the rest of her life before now, and nothing and no one could replace Arcturus or Lucretia or her grandmother, but this. This wasn’t too bad.


	22. The Strange Horses

Aurora was woken up early on September the First by a great crash coming from Dora’s room next door, followed by a loud string of swearing. “Nymphadora!” Andromeda’s voice rang sternly through the house. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing! It’s fine! Bloody Merlin!”

Aurora grinned as she got out of bed and padded to the hall just in time to see Dora hopping out of her own room and clutching her toe. “What did you do?”

“Knocked over my bookshelf again. Everything fell on my foot. Merlin and bloody Morgana that hurt!”

“Aurora!” Andromeda called. “Is that you awake? Is everything packed?”

“Yes, Andromeda!”

“Good, I told Gwendolyn’s mother we’d meet her at half past ten so we had best not be late. Nymphadora, come and help me with breakfast!”

Still cursing and holding her toe, Dora made her way clumsily down the stairs, glowering as Aurora continued to laugh. Heading back into her own room, she got dressed quickly in a semblance of Muggle clothes, lay her robes in a small backpack along with her wand and purse, and checked and double checked that she had everything she needed in her trunk before heading downstairs, where the smell of pancakes was already wafting through the kitchen. Ted sat reading the Daily Prophet in the lounge, frowning. He glanced up as Aurora entered.

“All ready then?” She nodded. “Good, good. I’m still reading about this Lockhart appointment, Dumbledore sounds daft.”

“Don’t judge him before he’s shown his skills,” Andromeda chided, coming through. “I’m sure he’ll prove a brilliant teacher, otherwise Dumbledore wouldn’t have hired him.” Aurora thought of Quirrel. She wasn’t so sure Dumbledore was a great judge of character. “Pancakes are ready, anyway.”

The pancakes were brilliant, and Andromeda beamed when Aurora told her so. “I had better get going,” Dora said at around half past nine. She grinned at Aurora. “Moody’ll be furious if I’m late, even if it is September the First.”

“Well make sure you’re on time then,” Andromeda said scoldingly.

“Have fun,” Aurora told Dora, who grinned.

“You too, munchkin.” She ruffled Aurora’s hair again, causing her to pout. This only amused Dora further. “Tell me about Lockhart won’t you? It’d give the trainees a good laugh.”

Ted grinned at Andromeda’s weary expression, and Aurora laughed. “See you tonight Mum.”

They were very punctual, meeting the Tearstons at half past ten precisely on platform number nine. Little Jessie practically ran towards them, Gwen having to pull her back. “You’ve got a cat!” she shouted to Aurora, who laughed. Stella hissed in her arms. “Gwen, you didn’t say your friend had a cat!”

“She’s called Stella,” Aurora said, bending down so Jessie was eye level with Stella, who did not seem to want to meet her eyes. “She’s a bit stubborn, but I can hold her while you pet her if you like.”

Jessie did so very carefully, and looked like she was concentrating heavily. Stella eyed her with great suspicion. “She’s very cute,” Jessie said before she drew back to stand with her mother. “Can we see the magic train now?”

Gwen scoffed. “It’s called the Hogwarts Express, Jessie.”

Mrs Tearston gave Gwen a chastising look as they headed off towards the barrier between the platforms. Aurora and Gwen went through first, both of them together, followed by Andromeda with Jessie and Mrs Tearston, then Ted bringing up the rear. “Looks like you’re making good time,” he said, “let’s get the two of you girls onto the train.”

With some assistance from the adults, and a lot of pestering from Jessie, Aurora and Gwen managed to stow their trunks in an empty compartment. Stella settled on one of the seats and refused to move, so the girls had to go back out onto the platform without her, much to Jessie’s upset. “Can’t I just stay on the train?” she asked Gwen pleadingly. “I promise I’ll be quiet, no one will even know!”

“Yeah,” Gwen said, “until I kick you out.”

Jessie pouted then turned on Aurora. “You’ll let me come with you, Aurora.”

“Oh, I wish I could, Jessie,” she said, laughing. “Maybe once you’re older you’ll get into Hogwarts.”

“I wish! That Professor said it’s some weird old gene that makes normal people magic and me and Gwen don’t have the same ones.”

“Well, you never know,” Aurora said awkwardly. “You aren’t seven yet - most witches don’t show any magical signs until that age.”

Jessie seemed only a little bit cheered up by this answer, though she still tried to sneak on the train after Gwen and Aurora when it got nearer to eleven o’clock. “Leave off, Jessie,” Gwen huffed. “Stay with Mum!

Jessie was very upset by this, so Gwen tugged Aurora sharply onto the train to avoid having a confrontation. They got into their compartment just as Hermione Granger paced up and down the corridor, muttering under her breath. She smiled tensely at Gwen, then hurried onwards. “What’s got her wand in a knot?” Aurora wondered aloud.

“Oh, I don’t know, she seems stressed. Maybe it’s the train; she was stressed last year as well. Though that was mainly because of Longbottom’s toad going missing.”

“Maybe Potter’s gone missing,” Aurora mused cheerfully, and Gwen sent her an exasperated look. “What? He went missing when they tried to go to Diagon Alley in the Summer.”

“I’d have thought you two would have called it quits.”

“I would have if he hadn’t won all those points for Gryffindor, when I was the one who saved him. He owes me now.”

“You really are dreadfully stubborn.”

“You must never let a debt escape,” Aurora told Gwen firmly, gaining only an eye-roll. She sighed in return and pulled out her copy of Gadding with Ghouls. Much of the information was concealed by flowery and overly complicated prose, so she only made a few notes as Robin Oliphant came in, keeping up a steady chatter with Gwen.

“Parkinson and Malfoy are looking for you, by the way,” Oliphant told her. “And that Greengrass girl.”

It took some time for Pansy and Draco to actually find Aurora, by which time she had gotten as much from Lockhart’s book as she thought possible, and was content to cease reading. “Come to our compartment, Aurora,” Pansy said, with a glance between Gwen and Oliphant. “Daphne and the others have all been waiting, we thought you’d disappeared like Potter and Weasley.”

Draco looked very smug. “Word is neither of them made it through the barrier.”

“You were right, Aurora,” Gwen said, shaking her head. “Jesus, where have they got to?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Probably some greatly illegal scheme.” She glanced awkwardly at her friend. “I’ll see you later, alright?”

She took some time to persuade Stella to move off the seat - she was growing into a very lazy cat - before proceeding down the narrow, shuttling train aisle with Draco and Pansy. “How did that fight end up at Flourish and Blotts?” she asked Draco curiously.

He wrinkled his nose. “Rather brutish on Arthur Weasley’s part, I must say, but what can you expect of people like that? Father still came out on top.” He sniffed as though there should be no question about Lucius’ superiority. “He told me there could be all sorts happening at Hogwarts this year, with that youngest Weasley here, too. All five of them.” He smiled. “Well, perhaps four.”

“What d’you mean, all sorts?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Father can be very secretive about things, I expect we shall find out. He often knows these things ahead of time, as a governor, of course.”

“And you?” Aurora asked, turning to Pansy. “How was the gala, you’ve barely written.”

“Oh, you know how busy my family is in the Summers,” Pansy said with a dismissive sigh. “But we are together now aren’t we, and we have so many stories to tell you, don’t we, Draco? You know old Orcus Selwyn was at the gala and he hardly ever comes to those sorts of events anymore - and Draco’s great-aunt Claudia, What did she do, Draco?”

“They did the foxtrot,” Draco mumbled, going red. “Drunk. And then she made me do the foxtrot.”

“And she tried to lift him!” Pansy pealed in laughter. “Which you must never do in the foxtrot! And she dropped him, and - and - Oh, Draco, you tell it!”

“And Daphne’s little sister picked me up, lifted me instead, and then I nearly crushed her.” Draco pursed his lips. “Honestly I’m rather glad you weren’t there to witness it.”

“Oh, I’m not! I would have loved to have seen that! Will little Astoria ever recover?”

Pansy snickered. “Daphne says she’s traumatised by the smell of the hair gel.”

“Oh, shut up, both of you,” Draco muttered. “I have news for you, Aurora - I’ve secured myself a spot on the team.”

“What?” she asked, excited as the realisation came to her. “The Quidditch team?”

“Of course.”

“But how? Term hasn’t even started, you couldn’t have tried out!”

“Well, father made a rather generous donation to the team,” Draco said smugly. “I have to prove myself, technically, but my position is all but given to me.”

“A donation,” Aurora said, looking curiously at him. “Of what?”

“New brooms. Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones, one for each player - and for the reserve.”

“Slytherin doesn’t have a reserve,” Aurora told him with a frown. “Flint says it gives you an excuse to slack.”

“Well, we don’t have a reserve yet,” Draco said with a smug smile. “But Flint has agreed to host tryouts, a quiet affair, not advertised, for the position. And he’s relaxing the rules about girls.”

It took Aurora a second to realise what he meant. “You’re joking! Draco! You are, aren’t you?”

“No,” he said, grinning at her. “See, Pansy, I said she’d care more than this about your ballgown!” Pansy pouted, but Aurora didn’t care at the moment. Her face was splitting into a wide and overwhelming grin.

“So he’s going to let me try out! For real?”

“It’s only a reserve position,” Draco said. “But I thought you would be an asset. And it isn’t as if you’re bad at making poisons.”

She pulled a face at him, descending into elated laughter. “Oh, I’ll have to practice. But even a reserve - I’ll work my way up, they’re bound to need me at some point.” She hugged Draco swiftly, beaming. It was a small victory and not one that she’d won for herself - yet. But it did give her an opportunity to show Flint what she could do. And who knew, maybe she wouldn’t even be a reserve? Maybe she would get a proper position, perhaps not this year, but the next. She was sure there was a Chaser who was meant to be leaving at the end of next term.

Elated by the information that she might get to be on the team, Aurora spent much of the rest of the train journey daydreaming about flying, about racing for the Snitch neck and neck, maybe with Potter, snatching it out from right under his nose. A Nimbus Two Thousand and One. Maybe she could be a Chaser, scoring goal after goal so the Slytherin stands went wild. Or a particularly nimble Keeper, dipping between the goalposts and saving the team from defeat.

It would be amazing.

She had a happy feeling all the way to Hogsmeade, when she set off with the others for the carriages, Stella in her arms. The night air was getting steadily colder as they followed the crowd, stars sparkling through the trees. She first saw the carriages, glimmering faintly in the moonlight, and then the strange skeletal creatures in front of them. They were creepy, a bit, but not in a repulsive way. They made Aurora curious more than anything else, but when she came closer she could see the faint shadow that usually accompanied Death, rising beneath them even despite the darkness.

Entranced, Aurora raised her hand to the creature’s neck and ran her fingers down. They were cold like a dead body but there was something beautiful about them that nothing living could truly touch. “Aurora,” Draco said sharply. “What are you doing?”

She turned, blinking as though coming out of a trance. “I was just... This thing.”

The others were all staring at her like she’d gone mad. “What thing?” Daphne asked, perplexed.

“This creature. Like a horse. It’s right in front of you.” The expressions on their faces said that it was not right in front of them, at least as far as they could see. “I must be getting tired,” she said, as they all looked very confused. “The sooner we get to the feast, the better. Come on.”

She was quick to get in the carriage, but the others still looked at her curiously. She could feel them looking at her, judging her. It wasn’t a nice feeling. They were silent on the journey to the castle, and Aurora found herself hurrying to sit with Gwen and Robin rather than Draco and Pansy, who stared at her like they thought she’d gone a bit mad. “What’s wrong with you?” Robin asked, staring at her.

She shook her head. “Nothing, I’m fine.” Gwen looked at her suspiciously, but Aurora gave her a pleading look and she didn’t ask, instead averting Robin’s attentions to the addition of Gilderoy Lockhart at the staff table.

“My mum seemed quite impressed with him,” she said.

“Yes, because Andromeda was telling her all of his deeds. Dora thinks he’s overrated.”

“You didn’t mind his books though.”

“The plots are interesting enough,” she said, “but a little too extravagant to be believable, and the prose is weak - though I suppose that doesn’t determined his magical prowess, it’s just all rather unimpressive to me. I’d rather judge him on his work that I can see face to face - there’s bound to be a lot lost in the writing itself, and histories always have room for deviation from the truth. It’s always been a trend, even Herodotus doesn’t align well with the archaeology, though of course, there is the distinction between history and biography. I suppose a better example might be-“

“My mum just thinks he’s hot,” Robin interrupted, and Aurora glowered at him for it. Gwen looked like she was stifling a laugh, and she gave Aurora the sort of look that indicated she should reserve her rambling interests.

“Well, I suppose he isn’t the winner of Witch Weekly’s best smile for nothing.”

Gwen and Robin picked up a conversation about Lockhart’s deeds which didn’t much interest Aurora, and she took to looking around the Great Hall, picking out the faces she knew. Sure enough, Potter and Weasley were nowhere to be seen, and Granger looked stressed beyond belief. Aurora felt a little bit sorry for her. She would be very worried if Draco or Pansy or Gwen had gone missing.

She was soon distracted by the new first years entering the Great Hall, all looking a mix of excited and terrified. Aurora picked out Ginny Weasley, who was looking around earnestly for her brothers, as well as Ivanna Rosier, whom Pansy had acquainted her with once a few years ago. She would be a Slytherin hopefully. Aurora couldn’t help but look towards Frida Selwyn, who appeared to be trying her best to make conversation with Granger, and Alice Runcorn, who was chatting amicably to Susan Bones. She’d hardly spoken to either of them, and when it came to thinking about it, she wasn’t sure any of the other girls had either. It was rather sad, but she didn’t exactly know what to do about it. They both seemed happy enough, after all, and she hadn’t heard of any scandals yet - though considering she’d been with Andromeda all Summer, that didn’t mean much.

Caught in her musing, Aurora very nearly missed the Sorting Hat’s song, only managing to hear the tail end about Slytherin ambition and school unity in times of great division and peril. The Sorting seemed to drag on now that it didn’t involve her, but they had a few promising additions to Slytherin, while Ginny Weasley went to Gryffindor. She was far from surprised by that, but it seemed Ginny had become intensely aware of her missing brother, and didn’t look very cheerful throughout the feast, even while Granger and a short little boy chatted to her.

“Any idea what McGonagall might set us this year?” Robin asked as he tucked into some dauphinois potatoes. “I had a look through the textbook and it all looks really complicated.”

“Really?” Aurora asked, surprised. There were a considerably many spells in there that she hadn’t had experience with, but that was to have been expected, and she had thought the content this year built quite well on the basics they had covered last year. “Which ones?”

“All of them,” Robin said gloomily.

“Robin failed his end of year exam,” Gwen said, “so he’s in a strop already.”

“Gwen! I only failed by two marks!”

Gwen just smiled at him daintily. “Aurora, I can be your Transfiguration partner this term, can’t I?”

At the dismayed look on Robin’s face, Aurora had only to laugh. “If I can persuade Draco and Pansy to sit together, then sure.”

Robin shook his head. “McGonagall’s going to kill me without your help, Gwen.”

“Go find Granger,” Aurora suggested, “seeing as it doesn’t look like either of her friends will be showing up for term.”

All in all, the feast was quite pleasant, but Snape appeared in a foul mood when they all got to the common room. He barked out the rules, terrifying the first years, and sent them all to their rooms with strict instructions that if he caught them out and wandering there would be severe consequences.

“He can’t come into the girls’ side of the dorms,” Pansy said, rejoining Aurora with Daphne, Millicent and Lucille in tow. “What do you say to a game of cards before we all turn in?”

Aurora grinned. “That sounds lovely. Gwen, do you want to join us?”

Pansy raised her eyebrows. “Really?”

“It would be rude not to invite her,” she whispered, “seeing as she is my roommate. Besides, she could still tattle to Snape if she wanted to.”

Gwen didn’t look pleased by Aurora’s reasoning, but Pansy accepted it with a sigh. “Fine. Come on, Tearston, but don’t touch anything of mine.”

Gwen rolled her eyes and muttered, “Snob,” under her breath. Aurora grinned back, tugging her along after the others.

Despite Pansy’s reservations, the six girls all got along rather well, and Daphne seemed tentatively curious about the Muggle world. Lucille told her off with a sniff, but Aurora thought Millicent had looked interested too. “Personally,” Aurora said, “I think the telephone is a remarkable invention. Far faster than owls, and more comfortable than using the Floo network.”

Pansy pulled a face. “Yes, well, I disagree.”

“Have you ever seen a telephone, Pansy?” Daphne asked, raising her eyebrows.

“I don’t need to. Mother says they’re crude, clunky things and incredibly backwards.”

Gwen laughed. “You use quills and ink,” she said pointedly. “I’ll have to show you a ballpoint pen.”

Aurora, who had encountered such pens over the holidays, sat up straighter and smiled with this secret and very exciting knowledge. The ink was already there, inside the pen, and all one had to do was click it. She thought it rather ingenious, though Pansy appeared determined to steer the conversation back to the comforts of magic and pureblood society, going on at great lengths about her family’s gala. It seemed Daphne, Millicent and Lucille had all been present, and Aurora couldn’t help but feel a little left out.

She enjoyed when the conversation turned to her, though. “Draco told me you inherited the family ring,” Pansy said, and Daphne gave a gasp before clutching Aurora’s hand and staring at the silver band that lay on her ring finger.

“Oh, Aurora, it’s gorgeous!” Daphne cried. “I’m so jealous!”

“What does it say again?” Lucille asked, leaning over. “Toujours pur. Of course.” She smirked, and her eyes flicked to Gwen, who seemed confused.

“It’s got all sorts of enchantments,” Aurora said, dragging her hand back from Daphne, who was looking at the ring with just too much interest for Aurora to be completely comfortable. “But it just feels right to wear it, you know?”

“So it’s official?” Millicent asked her. “Head of the Black House?”

“Unless someone manages to rise from the dead, yes, I suppose.” Despite her sadness at the events that had put this ring on her hand, she had always known it would be hers, and how. And though it still hurt, she had come to terms with the matter. “See these emeralds?” she asked Pansy, dangling her hand in front of her. “Brought from Austria in 1578.”

Pansy sniffed. “They’re rather small.”

“They’re elegant,” Aurora countered, with a fond look.

“Hang on,” Gwen interrupted. “What’s the deal with the ring?”

They all gave her the same sort of awkward look. It was strange trying to explain things to someone who had been brought up in a completely opposite society, but they did their best explaining the significant of family rings and jewellery. Aurora left out the meaning of the Black family motto deliberately, but she was sure Pansy and Lucille noticed. Not long after that, Gwen declared that she wanted to turn in for the night, and Aurora went with her.

“Are they always like that?” Gwen asked as they got changed for bed.

“Like what?”

“You know. Wonderful pureblood, posh... family summer galas! Do none of them really know what a telephone is?”

“I didn’t know what a telephone was until recently,” Aurora mumbled, flushing.

Gwen laughed. “You’re all so strange. But... I don’t know.” She bit her lip, looking pensively at her bedside table. “I don’t think they - well, no. I know they don’t like me. But actually listening to them talk, they’re all incredibly up themselves. Parkinson most of all.”

“That’s just how we were raised.”

“You’re not the same as them.”

She didn’t know what to say to that. Didn’t she want to be the same as them? “You used to think I was. I think I pass pretty well.”

“Yeah, but... You’re interested. You don’t understand basically anything but you at least want to. Mum thought it was sweet of you. You’re not so... pure blood as the others.”

Aurora tried to disguise the fact that hurt, because she knew Gwen wouldn’t like it to have hurt. “Says who?” she asked harshly.

Gwen didn’t say anything at first. “Well, you’re... Not.”

“Thanks,” Aurora muttered. That was just what she wanted to be, a blood traitor. Even Gwen had seen it, who knew what the others were saying. She was like her father. She tried not to be but she was. It would be easy to blame Gwen or Andromeda and Ted but no, that was her. At least she wasn’t the alternative. At least she wasn’t a Death Eater.

“Are you actually offended by that?” Gwen asked, sounding disbelieving. “Really?”

“No,” Aurora said. “It’s just weird. That’s... That’s what my father...” She dropped a book on the bed and huffed, clambering in under her covers. “It’s fine.” Desperate for a change of subject, she asked, “Did you see the horses pulling the carriages?”

From the look on Gwen’s face, she had not. “No? Should I have?”

Aurora sighed, pulling the covers up to her chin. Stella scratched the bedside table. “Probably not. No one else saw them, after all.” She set her book aside; she wasn’t interested in reading anymore. “Only me.”

She took that thought into her dreams. What were those things, and why could only she see them? Was it something wrong with her? The horses were there when she fell asleep, prancing among the stars. They turned on her, obscuring the moon with their deathly shadow, and their eyes glowed onyx, staring her down.

She woke up with her heart pounding.


	23. Pesky Pixies

Even if things had been a little tense the evening before, Aurora and Gwen were back to normal in the morning, heading to the Great Hall together. “Why do I feel so tired?” Gwen asked, yawning as they entered. “I didn’t even sleep bad.”

Aurora had, but she didn’t tell Gwen this. Her attention was instead diverted to the Gryffindor table where Potter and Weasley were already seated by a cross-looking Granger. “Looks like they made it then,” she said. “Draco will be furious.”

“Don’t start a fight.”

“I don’t start fights, Gwendolyn. When have I ever started a fight? It would be most unladylike of me.”

Gwen rolled her eyes and Aurora followed her to the Slytherin table where they tucked into breakfast and were handed their schedules by a glowering Snape. “I’ve got my eye on you, Black.”

“Thanks, Professor,” she said tiredly, taking her schedule. They had History first thing today, which at least presented Aurora with an opportunity to turn her brain off for a while, before Herbology, Potions, and Defense Against the Dark Arts later on.

“What have you done to annoy Snape?”

“Breathe, mainly,” Aurora said, and Gwen laughed.

“Looks like Weasley’s got a letter,” she said.

Aurora glanced up, and beamed when she saw the red parchment clutched in the owl’s beak. “Oh, that’s not just any letter, Gwen. That’s a Howler.”

“What’s a Howler?”

“You’ll see. Well...” She smirked. “You’ll hear.”

A second later, an ear-splitting yell pierced the air. The noise filled the whole of the Great Hall, and Aurora burst into laughter as Weasley got an appropriate tongue-lashing from his mother - for flying a car to school. “Now I see,” Gwen said, grinning, as the letter burst into flame. “That was wonderful, how do I get one?”

“You want a Howler?”

“I want to send one to Yas and scare her,” Gwen clarified, laughing.

“I bet Jessie would love that.”

“Oh, she would.”

Though Aurora sat between Draco and Pansy in History, and shared a desk with Pansy and two Ravenclaws - the McDougal sisters, Morag and Isobel - in Herbology, by the time lunch came Gwen seemed to have collected all the school’s gossip on the car incident with Potter and Weasley.

“Apparently it was their father’s car that had been enchanted,” she told Aurora as they journeyed outside. “I think that’s pretty cool, I’d like a flying car, but Leah MacMillan thought it was weird anyone would even mess with Muggle stuff in the first place. And then they flew it into the Whomping Willow - you know, that really violent tree?” Aurora nodded, having had a few close shaves early on last year. “They said they couldn’t get onto the platform, but it never occurred to them to just write a letter, so they flew it all the way from London.”

“Idiots. How do you know this?”

“One of the Gryffindor first years told me, he’s very excited about the whole thing. He asked me if I knew Potter and could get an autograph since he was too nervous.”

Aurora snorted. “He sounds charming.”

“I’m sure he’s just curious. From the sounds of it he’s a Muggleborn too, and while I can’t say Potter was my number one interest, it kind of makes sense.”

“Ugh, if you tell me you’re going to start asking Potter for autographs I might be sick.”

“Jessie would find it interesting.”

“Right, I’m sitting next to Crabbe in Defense Against the Dark Arts now.”

Gwen laughed, just as Potter and his friends emerged from the school. “Oh, here they come.”

“Wonderful.”

“That’s the little Gryffindor,” Gwen said, pointing out a sandy haired boy who was clutching a camera and looking at Potter in wide eyed amazement.

“Harry! Harry Potter!”

“Oh dear, is he going to ask for an autograph?”

“Maybe even a photo.”

“What terrible times we live in.”

Aurora watched the little boy ask Potter for a photo, which seemed to embarrass him greatly. She laughed at the blank expression on his face, but her laughter died when Draco came over. “This can’t end well,” she said to Gwen, nodding.

“You’re right. Draco looks like he’s going to crush that boy’s hopes and dreams.”

“I think that may be a bit of an exaggeration,” Aurora pointed out, though she frowned at the expression on Draco’s face. He looked smug, taunting.

“Potter’s giving out signed photos!” Draco declared loudly to everyone in earshot, and Potter looked suitably horrified. Aurora laughed into her hand, Gwen sending her an exasperated look.

“You’re just jealous!” Little Gryffindor piped up, quite brave for someone so tiny. He was already showing his house colours.

“Jealous?” Draco called, laughing. “Of what? I don’t want a big ugly scar across my forehead thank you very much! I don’t think getting your head cut open makes you all that special. What do you think Aurora?”

She grinned as she marched over. “Oh, you couldn’t get me to take a photo of Potter if you paid me. The sight of it would be horrifying.”

Draco snickered and Gwen rolled her eyes exasperatedly. “Who are you?” the little Gryffindor asked, standing in front of Potter defensively. It would have been cute if it wasn’t so pathetic.

“Black,” Potter said tightly, giving her a confused sort of glare. She sneered in response.

“Black?” Gryffindor squeaked. “Like the murderer?”

She turned her coldest glare on him. “Like your eye if you don’t get out of my face, firstie.”

“Oi!” Weasley said. “He’s only being nice, Black! Don’t bloody threaten him!”

She laughed sneeringly and was about to make a nasty retort when she saw Gilderoy Lockhart sweeping over the grounds towards them. Aurora had no desire to see him cozying up to Potter, and so she tried to make her exit, but Lockhart appeared to have caught sight of her. He stared as he caught up to them, mouth frozen as he tried to form a sentence, and then stared some more. She glared back, putting on her coldest expression to tell him to stop it. “Professor?”

“Forgive me, you look an awful lot like - but of course, you couldn’t be his - oh, no.” All pretense of coldness was gone.

“I’m sorry?”

“Nothing, my dear girl, nothing. Ah, Mr Potter!” He gave Aurora a nervous look and she wrinkled her nose at him before turning on her heel and hurrying off towards the castle with Gwen.

“What was that about?”

“I don’t know,” Aurora said, throwing a cold look over her shoulder at Lockhart. “But if he looks like that when he sees me, I dread to think what he actually did when he encountered a vampire.”

“You think he’s scared of you?”

“I think he thought I looked like my father. Which means he must have known my father.” She glared back at him. He seemed to now be educating Potter on fame. “We’ve got him next, haven’t we?”

“With Gryffindor.”

Aurora groaned. “Merlin and Morgana, give me strength.”

The pair of them wandered for a little while before running into Pansy, Daphne and Lucille, who eyed Gwen interestedly but didn’t mention her presence. “What do you think of Professor Lockhart?” Pansy whispered excitedly in Aurora’s ear. “His hair’s even lovelier in person.”

“I do think it’s a little too golden to be his true colour,” Daphne said with a sniff. “Clearly he charms it that way - like sunlight.”

“Oh, his hair is nice,” Lucille said, and looked at Aurora, “but I said I thought he was just a little bit too charming, if you know what I mean. Too charming to be elegant.”

“I quite agree,” Aurora said. “I’m not a fan yet though, his books didn’t interest me much.”

“Oh, but they’re wonderful!” Daphne cried indignantly. “I must have read Voyaging with Vampires at least five times!”

“Really?” Gwen asked, laughing.

“Yes, really,” Daphne said primly. “I happen to think vampires are very interesting.”

“Five times is a bit excessive, don’t you think?”

“At least Daphne is prepared,” Pansy said, with a cold glance at Gwen. “Now, hurry up, I don’t know where Millicent’s gotten to, but I don’t want to be late for Lockhart’s class, otherwise we’ll never get seats near him.”

When they arrived, Potter was already in the classroom with Lockhart, looking very uncomfortable. He looked to them too quickly, and his face fell when he realised who had walked in. Aurora turned a cool gaze on Lockhart, and he smiled thinly, a little bit shakily, and let Potter go to a seat while he sought out the class register. Aurora smirked at Potter, and mouthed tauntingly, “You’re welcome,” before taking a seat between Pansy and Gwen.

“Not there, Daphne,” Pansy scolded, gesturing to the seat beside her. “That’s where Draco’s going to sit.”

Daphne pulled a face only Aurora and Lucille could see, and sat in the row behind them, leaving a space open on Lucille’s other side for Millicent. The Slytherins arrived before the Gryffindors - barring Granger and Weasley - and the room quickly filled up. Robin Oliphant slipped into the seat behind Gwen, grinning as he maintained a loud conversation about Gobstones with Leah MacMillan.

“Draco,” Pansy called, gesturing for him to join them. She messed with his hair, which was very strange. Aurora raised her eyebrows, catching Draco’s eye, and he immediately shrugged Pansy off, scribbling down the date on his parchment. She’d rubbed off on him; he was already preparing to make notes on their lesson.

But Professor Lockhart didn’t seemed all that interested in lecturing them or giving them notes. He started the class off with a pop quiz about his textbooks, which Aurora was very excited about, as she had already read and taken notes on almost all of them. Daphne also looked very pleased; her five reads of Voyaging with Vampires was going to pay off. Aurora was surprised, however, when she saw the content of the quiz. It was about fifty questions long, but they did not align with anything she had taken notes on - not the use of silver when dealing with werewolves, or his handy idea to use his wand as a temporary stake for a vampire. No, all of the questions were about him.

Number one: what is Gilderoy Lockhart’s favourite colour?

“How are we expected to know that?” Pansy whispered. “I don’t care about him that much, goodness!”

“It’s lilac,” Draco whispered back along at them, and Aurora tried to cover her laugh with a cough. He flushed. “Mother likes him, and she made me read everything twice over the holidays.”

“What’s his secret ambition then?”

“To impress Narcissa, of course.”

“Shut up,” Draco hissed at them, face glowing an impressive shade of scarlet.

Aurora filled out the quiz to the best of her ability, finding that even reading for different purposes than learning Lockhart’s favourite flavour of ice cream helped her somewhat. Gwen looked to be struggling, so Aurora subtly slid her completed quiz to her five minutes before their time was up and let her scribble down hasty answers.

When Lockhart collected the quizzes in, he looked very disappointed by his response. Aurora had seen a couple of rather nasty answers on Robin Oliphant’s test when he’d passed it over. “Hardly any of you remember my favourite colour is lilac,” he complained, and Aurora had to muffle a laugh when she looked at Draco, who was again rather pink. “And a few of you need to read Wandering with Werewolves more carefully. I state very clearly in chapter twelve that my ideal birthday gift would be harmony between magical and non-magical beings.” Pansy snorted, and Aurora bit back a laugh - it was exactly the sort of thing someone would write to make themselves look morally superior to others.

“Now Miss Granger knew my secret ambition is to rid the world of evil and market my own range of hair care Potions!” Aurora couldn’t stop herself from laughing this time, and both Draco and Pansy were doing the same. She caught Pansy’s eye and started giggling again, much to the aggravation of the rest of the class. Lockhart steadfastly ignored her, tossing his hair, which only made her laugh harder. “In fact, full marks! Where is Miss Hermione Granger?” Now Gwen looked on the verge of laughing too: Granger had gotten full marks on the test? “Excellent, quite excellent! Ten points to Gryffindor!” That was enough to sober Draco and Pansy up, though Aurora was still giggling into her hand, shoulders shaking silently.

“Now,” Lockhart said, seeming quite cheerful considering half the class was laughing at him, “on to the fun part! Defense!” He whirled his robes around so extravagantly Aurora thought they might smack Seamus Finnigan in the face, and it was great effort that she stopped herself from bursting out laughing again. “Be warned, children. It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizardkind!” Aurora straightened up a little to get a look at the covered cage he had on his desk. “You may find yourself facing your worst fears in this room. All I can ask is that you... remain... calm.”

For all his build up, Aurora thought Lockhart might unleash a baby Minotaur on them. That would be fun to watch. “I must ask you not to scream. It might - provoke them!”

He whipped the cloth off of the cage and Aurora stared in disbelief at the little electric blue creatures inside, and then burst out laughing. “Cornish pixies?” Seamus Finnigan asked loudly, finding this just as amusing.

“Freshly caught Cornish pixies! Oh, you may laugh, Mr Finnigan,” Lockhart said. “But they’re nasty little blighters.” There had been many hidden in Arcturus’ old manor gardens, and Aurora had had great fun chasing them up trees, though she got a few pinches on the arm for her trouble. Even so, Arcturus had taught her how to capture them - they liked tulips - and they were hardly the foulest creatures known to wizardkind.

“They’re hardly dangerous,” Aurora said, smirking.

“Really. Then, let’s see what you make of them!”

He unlocked the cage and the squabbling pixies surged free before anyone could protest. Pansy shrieked and grabbed a book, trying to swat at the pixie that had just grabbed ahold of her hair and was trying to pull her out of her seat. Aurora ducked under the table, pulling Gwen down with her as the pixies shrieked around them. Draco had ran to hide behind Crabbe and Goyle, both of whom stared gormlessly at the pixies.

One of them grabbed Aurora’s robe sleeve, trying to yank her out from underneath her desk. She looked up just in time to see Weasley getting an ink pot launched at his head, and laughed just a second before a book landed on her shoulder. “Hey!”

She stood up and swatted the pixies away, snatching her wand from one of them, which blew a raspberry at her and swept down to pull her nose. “Get off! Get off!”

She wished she had some tulips. “Behave yourself!”

The pixie cackled and tried to jam its foot up her nose. Aurora sighed out of it loudly and the pixie went flying backwards, cackling as it soared to land on top of Finnigan’s head. Professor Lockhart was doing absolutely nothing as the pixies smashed through the windows and cartwheeled through the sky outside. One had taken up a piece of chalk and was drawing a moustache on Lockhart’s portrait, which Aurora quite enjoyed, except she then had to duck down because the pixie had seen her looking and appeared to be intent on giving her a moustache, too. She grabbed the pixie around the middle and whispered, “The boy with the glasses would look great with a pink beard.” The pixie cackled and dove off to harass Potter, who was scrambling around with Granger trying to protect her books from getting shredded by the rest of the pixies.

Taking her opportunity again, Aurora ducked down and rolled under her desk, next to where Gwen and now Robin were sheltering.

“Aurora!” Draco’s voice yelled, sounding quite frantic. “Get the pixies!”

She shook her head and poked her head back up, only to pull Draco down to sit with her. “Just keep away,” she whispered. “I can’t wait to see what they do to Potter.”

She pressed a finger to her lips to stop Gwen and Robin making a sound, and made sure she was firmly under her desk. “I’m quite enjoying this,” Robin said.

“Pixies are annoying,” Aurora whispered. “But they can be quite useful when they’re not annoying you.”

“Like Peeves,” Gwen said, nodding sagely.

One pixie dove down to their desk and cackled, but Aurora went a very quick Freezing Charm in its direction. It fell to the floor. “It’s cute when it isn’t doing anything,” Gwen said.

The bell rang and the four of them got quickly to their feet, grabbing their books and stuffing them in their bags before running out of the room with everyone else. Once they were safely on their way back to the dungeons, Aurora broke into peals of laughter. “That was wonderful!” she cried. “Oh, Lockhart’s an idiot!”

“I thought you’d be more concerned than this,” Gwen said, frowning. “He seems a worse teacher than Quirrel.”

“Yeah,” Robin said, laughing loudly with Aurora, “but he’s great entertainment value, isn’t he? Oh God, I actually want to read his books now! That’s what you call a plot twist!”

That set Aurora off giggling again, and she didn’t stop until they got back to their common room, where their yearmates were clustered and talking about the lesson. Aurora tried to keep a straight face as she joined the other girls, but it proved impossible the moment she caught Daphne’s eye. “Did you see Potter when that pixie got bogeys on his hair?”

“Oh, I think that was my fault.”

“Pansy, you screamed like you were dying.”

“I did not, Millicent, it was for dramatic effect only!” That set Aurora off again; she hiccuped, eyes smarting with tears of laughter.

“Did you hear Draco yelling?” Lucille said, and Draco glared over at them. “Aurora, come and save me!”

Aurora spluttered, laughing. “I haven’t enjoyed Defense Against the Dark Arts that much ever.”

“It’s all very easy to laugh at when you weren’t hauled into the air by your hair,” Pansy said primly. “My life could have been in danger!”

“From pixies?” Daphne shook her head, eyes bright from laughter. “You’re just upset because your hair’s a mess. And did you see Professor Lockhart? So much for bravery, he didn’t do anything.”

“Perhaps he wanted to give us some hands on experience,” Pansy suggested, cheeks flushing.

“Yeah,” Gwen said, “or he’s an idiot.”

“Oh, he’s an idiot alright,” Millicent said, covering her mouth as she laughed. Pansy glared at her. “An idiot with great hair.”

“Still an idiot,” Daphne said, and they all laughed, even Pansy.


	24. Trial and Error

“Saturday, eight o’clock in the morning.” Aurora looked up from her seat on the sofa in the common room, to see Marcus Flint looming over her. She exchanged a glance with Pansy and Daphne, and frowned.

“What is, Flint?”

“Your unofficial tryout. Malfoy said he reckons you’d be a decent reserve. We don’t normally accept girls, but he insisted. His father’s made a... generous donation to the team.” Flint didn’t look very impressed, and he was practically glowering at Aurora. “You better fly well.”

He stomped off to join a group of sixth years, leaving the girls seated around Aurora to start up an immediate stream of gossip. “He’s really going to let you try out?” Millicent asked. “I asked if I could apply for Beater and he said no!”

“There aren’t open Beater positions, Millicent,” said Pansy with a sniff. “I suppose reserve isn’t an awful position.”

“It’s more than any other girl has,” Lucille pointed out. “If I’d known all it took to get on the team was a generous donation, I would have gotten father to make one before I even started at Hogwarts.” She pouted. “It’s really rather unfair.”

“That’s life, Lucille,” Daphne said, flicking her hair. “Have you got a broom, Aurora?”

“Dora lent me her cleansweep seven.”

“Oh, that’s no good!” Lucille cried. “You’ll be laughed at!”

“I suspect the provision of Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones will be extended to the reserve,” Pansy said, shaking her head.

“Two Thousand and Ones? You didn’t say that was the donation! Oh, now I really wish I were on the team!”

“One day,” Aurora said, “I’ll work my way up to the captaincy. Then you can all be on the team.”

“Not me,” Pansy said.

“Except Pansy,” Aurora said, “who can be our team mascot. We’ll dress you up as a snake.”

Pansy glowered at her. Daphne found this very funny, beaming at Aurora. “I wish I could come and support you,” she said, “but Pansy and I are auditioning for the Frog Choir on Saturday morning.”

“Are you really?”

Daphne nodded, and leaned down to whisper conspiratorially in Aurora’s ear. “She doesn’t want to, because she thinks they’ll be awfully slimy.”

“I told her the Morgana Choir would be much more appropriate,” Pansy said, “for ladies of our standing. It’s Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors who join the frog choir, not Slytherins.”

Daphne rolled her eyes. “Then we will stand out, Pansy. Which is what you said you wanted.”

Pansy muttered something incomprehensible to Lucile, who laughed loudly and shot Millicent a look.

“What?” Daphne asked, raising her eyebrows coolly.

“Nothing.”

Daphne narrowed her eyes in suspicion at Pansy, but Millicent quickly changed the subject. “Right, Aurora, we have to discuss your Quidditch trial. How are you going to play it?”

By Saturday morning, they still hadn’t gotten much further than agreeing that Aurora would have to be the very best flier there, better than any of the boys, if she was to have any chance of securing her spot as reserve. She was already nervous when she went down to the Quidditch Pitch with the Slytherin team - she didn’t have the same robes as the boys did, and they were all much larger and taller than her, but she did have a broom which she was holding very, very tightly. Though Draco appeared to be trying to calm her nerves, he wasn’t doing a very good job, and her nerves only doubled when she caught sight of the Gryffindor Team also on the pitch, in scarlet and gold robes.

“Why are they here?” She whispered to Draco, who shrugged.

“Don’t know. Flint’ll give them what for though. We’ve got special permission from Snape.” She wasn’t sure any Gryffindors would bow to the will of Snape, but they had noticed the Slytherins now, and Oliver Wood - Gryffindor’s Captain and Keeper - swooped down furiously to confront Flint. Draco smirked. “This should be good. Look at old scarhead’s face.” Potter did look furious.

“Flint!” Wood bellowed. “What are you doing here? I’ve booked this pitch all day!”

“Easy, Wood,” Flint said, laughing. “I’ve got a note from Professor Snape.”

Aurora stood on her tiptoes to get a look at the confrontation. Granger and Weasley were hurrying down from the stands towards the teams, followed by the Gryffindor who had been following Potter around all week. Wood snatched a piece of parchment from Flint, glaring. “I, Professor Snape, give Slytherin Quidditch Team special permission to practice on the pitch today owing to the need to train their new Seeker and reserve. You’ve got a new Seeker? Who? And what reserve?”

The older team members parted to reveal Draco and Aurora, who quickly stopped her looking about on her tiptoes. Draco stepped forwards and she followed, smirking at the look on Potter’s face. “Malfoy,” Potter said. “Black.”

“Not like you to get a reserve, Flint.”

Flint grinned, though it was more like he was baring his teeth. “Things change, Wood.”

“Aren’t you Lucius Malfoy’s son?” Fred Weasley asked, staring at Draco.

“Funny you should mention Draco’s father,” Flint said. Aurora tightened her grip around her broomstick. “He’s made a rather generous donation to the team this year.” They all held out the nimbuses in unison, and Aurora couldn’t help the feeling of satisfaction when she saw the Gryffindors’ fury. “Latest model, just came out. I believe it outstrips the old Two Thousand model by a considerable amount. As for the Cleansweeps...” He was looking very deliberately and Fred and George Weasley, who were holding the old Cleansweep Five models. “Wipes the floor with them.”

The rest of the team laughed behind Aurora, and she avoided meeting anybody’s eyes. “Oh, look,” Flint said softly, as Granger and Weasley came over. “A pitch invasion.”

“What’s happening?” Weasley asked Potter. “Why aren’t you playing?” As if wasn’t obvious. Aurora rolled her eyes, catching Draco’s smirk. “And what are they doing here?”

“I’m the new team Seeker,” Draco said smugly, looking down his nose at Weasley. “Aurora’s our reserve.”

Flint gave her a fleeting look as if to remind her she still had to try out, but he wasn’t going to break rank in front of the Gryffindor Team. “Everyone was just admiring our new brooms,” Draco said. “Father gifted them rather generously to the team.”

“What?”

“Good, aren’t they? But perhaps the Gryffindor Team will be able to raise some gold and get new brooms, too. You could raffle off those Cleansweep Fives, I bet a museum somewhere would buy them.” Ordinarily Aurora might have told Draco off, but it was important not to lose face in front of either team. While she didn’t outright laugh, she did smile, eyes on the sky.

“At least no one on the Gryffindor Team had to buy their way in,” Granger said, crossing her arms. She shook out her bushy hair. “They got in on pure talent.”

“No one asked your opinion,” Draco snarled immediately, “you filthy little Mudblood.”

Aurora had to yank Draco out of the way so Alicia Spinnet didn’t punch him in the face. “What did you say that for?”

“You’ll pay for that one, Malfoy,” Weasley said, pointing his wand furiously at Draco.

“Stop!” Aurora shouted, flinging an arm between them.

Weasley ignored her, and a jet of light sprang from his wand with a very loud bang. Draco seemed unaffected; Weasley on the other hand had a rather dazed expression, as his own spell hit him in the stomach and knocked him back. He fell to the floor, bent over, rather green in the face. Aurora stared at him in horror. “Ron!” Granger cried. “Ron! Are you alright?”

“Is he going to be sick?” Aurora asked incredulously to Derek Symms, the fifth year Chaser, who just laughed. Weasley belched and a trail of slugs fell from his mouth. Draco and Flint were both doubled over in laughter, and Aurora stared, caught between amusement at Weasley’s misfortune and horror at the sight of the slugs. It was rather disgusting.

Potter, Granger and the Gryffindor Team all crowded around Weasley, obscuring him from view. The little Gryffindor boy was hurrying around with his Muggle camera, trying to get a shot, while the Slytherin Team laughed at Weasley’s backfired spell. “Get out of the way, Colin!” Potter told the little Gryffindor boy, trying to pull Weasley up to stand. “We should get him to Hagrid’s, he’ll know what to do.”

“You should be thrown off the team!” Oliver Wood howled as the three of them traipsed down the hill. “Wait until I tell Professor McGonagall about this, there is no place for that kind of language in Quidditch!”

“You’re foul, Malfoy,” Angelina Johnson spat. “Utterly foul.”

“Weasley brought it quite upon himself.”

“This isn’t about Weasley!” Alicia Spinnet shouted. “How dare you use that word against Granger! Flint, discipline your bloody team, why won’t you?”

“Malfoy, get to the back of the group before any of these idiots start trying to throw punches.”

Draco didn’t have to be told twice. He ducked behind Symms, and Aurora shot him a glare. “Where is he?” Fred Weasley demanded, as he and George caught up to them. “Malfoy, where’s the little sod gotten to?”

“Stand down, Weasley,” Flint said. “You don’t want to go the same way as that little brother of yours.”

Fred lunged for Flint, and Aurora ducked out of the way just in time as the two of them went sprawling to the ground. “Flint!” Symms shouted, as the Chasers hurried to try and separate them. The Gryffindors made no such attempt, clearly feeling that Flint got what was coming. “You’ll get suspended for that!”

Neither seemed to hear. Both Flint and Fred were brawling and rolling around on the ground, yelling insults at each other. It took the threat of Madam Hooch to persuade them to break it up, and even then the two teams were spitting furiously at one another. Aurora watched, quite unused to such situations. There wasn’t an ounce of decorum between these people, clearly. She decided to keep out of it, as did the Slytherin Chaser, Perseus Lavin, who seemed just as disapproving as she was.

“We’ll take the pitch,” Flint said eventually. “Since you’re down a Seeker.”

“We’re what?” Wood looked around comically, as if noticing for the first time that Potter was not among them. “Where’s he gone?”

“Took Ron to Hagrid,” George said, with a strong glare at Malfoy. “Come on, Fred. You’ve got slug slime on your boot.”

The Gryffindors all trooped towards the castle, furious. No doubt tensions would be even higher as they approached their first match. Once they were gone, Flint turned on the team. “Right. Malfoy.” Draco stepped forward, looking smug. “You were out of line there.” His smile quickly fell. “It looks bad on all of us if you start talking like that. Professional league, you’d be cut immediately for using that sort of language.”

“But she-“

“I don’t want to hear it. Regardless of anyone’s feelings here on the subject, if a teacher had overheard that, you would be out of the team for good. And you’ve gotten us into confrontation.”

“You were the one rolling around on the ground with Weasley!”

“Shut it,” Flint growled, and Draco went very quiet. “Do you understand me? No more of that talk.” Draco nodded tightly. “Black.” Aurora jumped to attention. “At least you seem to have some dignity about you. We’re behind on time, so you better prove you can fly, and fast.”

With an evenly matched broom, she outflew Draco at the start, though they were very close. He still got the snitch before her, but she got a good few Quaffles past the Slytherin Keeper, and hit a good Bludger towards the stands, nearly taking out a Hufflepuff. When she reached the ground again, it wasn’t to applause, but a couple of the players did look grudgingly impressed.

“Well?” She flicked hair out of her eyes and raised her chin to looked confidently at Flint.

“You’re not bad, Black,” Flint said. He grunted and nodded. “You’re in, but I’m making no promises. You probably won’t get to play, I doubt we’ll have much need for you.”

Aurora grinned anyway. That night, she wrote Dora and the Tonkses a long letter telling them how Lockhart really did seem like a bit of an idiot in class, and that she had managed to get herself onto the Slytherin Team, even if it was only as a reserve. It still meant something to be there, and she was determined that she would make her way to the main team one way or another.

-*

Last year, the Hogwarts library had been something of a haven, and this year, Aurora was determined to make the absolute most of it. In her last visit to Diagon Alley, she had done a search of a few more interesting items in her vault, mainly jewellery. Many of them had strong enchantments placed upon them, and though she didn’t know what half of them were or how they worked, she had - unbeknownst to the Tonkses - brought some such items with her to Hogwarts. They sat in a small, unassuming yet also heavily protected box in her bottom drawer. Only Gwendolyn knew where it was, and that was only because it would be largely pointless to try and hide it and end up being questioned on why. Gwendolyn thought it was merely a keepsake box.

Though Aurora didn’t expect she could quite uncover every one of the enchantments across her extensive collection of jewellery, she was certainly curious. A collection of three necklaces, each with serpent-shaped pendants, were bound together along a key which itself seemed to double as a lock, decorated with tiny emeralds; there was a silver ring inset with a large, smoky sort of rock that seemed to be whispering; and there was a pair of silver, diamond-studded earrings which didn’t appear at first to have any enchantments upon them, but were very pretty, so she kept them with her and would ensure they were safe before she attempted to put them on. While she didn’t imagine anything cursed would be in the vault, Arcturus had discussed with her when she was younger the manner of some of the objects they had in their possessions, scattered between houses and family members. All of them - spare anything Narcissa had, or that Bellatrix and her father had managed to take to Azkaban with them - were now her possessions, and she had to learn not only what they were out of curiosity, but how to manage them in order to avoid any accidents. It was rather a lot to ask of a twelve year old, but there wasn’t really anyone else to manage the family possessions; Andromeda would have nothing to do with it and likely throw things out, which Aurora didn’t want, but she refused to give anything over to the Malfoys. They wouldn’t take her in, then they would get nothing from her except - in Draco’s case - the friendship they already had.

She didn’t dare bring any of the jewellery to the library with her, of course, but she did manage to find a number of books about enchantments traditionally placed on jewellery, even if she didn’t think they would be very helpful for dark magic, they were still somewhere to start. Aurora suspected information on anything particularly dark would be kept in the Restricted Section. Even so, Grimmauld Place had an extensive Dark library that she could access through Kreacher, if she knew what she was looking for.

She spent most of Sunday reading up on enchantments which might typically be placed upon jewellery. Often they bound objects together, and though some might grant their bearer protections - such as in the case of amulets - they could also curse them. Of the books she read, only one went into any detail about curses - Aurora suspected Dumbledore had had a hand in purging the school library of darker materials - but when she returned to her room it was with a better idea of how to tackle the necklaces at any rate.

No matter what she had done to try and untangle the necklaces, prise them apart or unlock the key - which she had suspected to be some strange sort of combination mechanism - she had had no luck. Her first instinct had been to use the alohomora charm, which didn’t work, much to her displeasure. She suspected that untangling the necklaces was only the first part of figuring out their enchantments, and was particularly interested in the matching snake pendants. But she had to take this one thing at a time.

The key had three tiny holes along its delicate silver stem, through which each necklace was looped. The connections on the chains were too large to go through the holes themselves, which meant that to release and thus begin to untangle the necklaces, she would have to open up those holes. There had to be a way, she just didn’t know how yet.


	25. Enemies of the Heir

As it turned out, there wasn’t actually very much to do as the Slytherin reserve. During practices, Aurora more often than not found herself sitting alone on the bench, damn near frozen to it, watching the others zoom around like blurs of emerald green. A lot of the time, she found herself wishing she had been working through ballet exercises with the school dance club instead, because much as she loved Quidditch, it was no fun not getting to do anything. She got the distinct feeling that Flint didn’t really see the point in training her, as he didn’t think she would be needed. The thought frustrated her immensely, but one advantage of being on the bench was that she was able to see who needed work. Draco, for all he was a fast flyer, needed to work on his reflexes if he was going to beat Potter. The Chasers were good, and worked well as a team, but their formations became repetitive after a while. The Keeper was much more inclined to save right than left, and the Beaters, while powerful, needed to have more precise aim. She said as much to Flint, but he didn’t looked pleased, and sent her back to the castle on her own to shower after practice. Not that she minded that - she’d never showered with the rest of the team and had no desire ever to do so.

She was halfway down the stairs to the dungeon when she saw him. Death. His shadow dipped over the stones under the sconces, seeming to be nowhere and everywhere at once. A chill passed over her, and for a fleeting moment he materialised on the staircase, before disappearing again. Though she was freezing, Aurora couldn’t deny her curiosity. She hurried up the stairs after him and along the corridor, though his shadow seemed determined to evade her. There was a strange, faint sort of hissing noise coming from nearby, maybe in the pipes. It didn’t stop her though. She hurried on, chasing Death, until he brought her to the edge of a tower ledge that opened into the air, and disappeared.

Aurora made a sound of frustration, and made to turn back around, but something caught her eye in the grounds below. A red-haired figure was running across the grass towards the forest, showing no hesitation as they entered and were swallowed by the darkness. Death’s shadow flickered on a nearby wall, a reddish gleam dancing there, taunting her. Was Death the one who was hissing? She clenched her jaw, turning around, and walked out into the corridor straight into Harry Potter.

Of all the luck in the world. “Sorry,” she muttered quickly, grimacing.

He stared at her, startled. “Oh. It’s... Alright.” He didn’t look convinced, but held her gaze.

“What?”

“Nothing. Who - who were you speaking to?”

“Excuse me?”

“Who...” He shook his head. “Never mind. Sorry for bumping into you.”

He hurried back down the corridor, looking rather flustered. Aurora stared after him. She hadn't been talking to anyone, nor had she heard anyone else talking. Was Potter hearing voices? Even for wizards that was concerning. But maybe that was just Potter. She shook her head, and made her way back to the dungeons for a shower as Flint had instructed, her mind returning to Death. Something unsettled her. Something wasn’t right. Probably it had something to do with Potter, whatever he was up to, roaming the school on his own and asking about voices.

Over the course of October, though, Aurora found herself distracted by all morbid thoughts of Death and Potter. Their teachers - except Lockhart, who only talked about himself and his books in a shoddily concealed attempt at a publicity stunt - were piling on the work, so much that Aurora even found herself slipping up a few times. She’d brewed an imperfect potion for Snape once, and received a detention for ‘endangering the public’, despite the fact that the potion proved entirely harmless. That put her in a terrible mood, but she was cheered up by talk of the first year initiation due to take place at the end of the month, on Halloween night.

“Obviously we haven’t been told,” Pansy said to them, when she, Aurora, Daphne, Lucille, Millicent and Gwen were all huddled on their sofa, “but word is this time they’re going to have them sneak cake from the kitchen for us.”

“Well I hope they’ve got good taste then,” said Millicent, and Pansy looked at her wryly.

“I don’t know about that,” Gwen said, “I heard one of the tasks is to retrieve a house tie from the Gryffindor common room.”

“What nonsense,” Pansy said dismissively. She still hadn’t taken a liking to Gwen, even despite Aurora’s silent insistence on her inclusion. Daphne and Millicent had been most accommodating, with Lucille remaining politely distant. Draco had nothing to do with her.

“I hope they get Potter’s,” Aurora said, to laughs. “He’ll get house points taken by Snape for sure.”

“I would like to see that,” Pansy said. “Or Granger. Can’t you imagine her crying because she lost a house point over a tie?”

Daphne laughed. “Oh, poor dears. Whatever these first years have to do, I hope it’s entertaining. Maria Cox said the year before ours, they made them all bring slugs to the common room and make them dance.”

The others all burst into laughter at the idea. “Can you imagine little Hestia Carrow making a slug dance?” Millicent said gleefully, referring to a first year they’d grown rather fond of. “She’d faint!”

“I think that is a simply awful thing to do,” Lucille said indignantly. “I wouldn’t touch a slug.”

“You do in Potions.”

“That’s when they’re dead, and even then, I can usually bully Vincent into dealing with them for me.” She shook her head, clearly disgusted. “Oh, don’t even discuss this with me! Dancing slugs!”

Gwen and Aurora both laughed loudly along with Millicent, while Pansy looked unimpressed and Daphne seemed to be trying to hide her smile from Lucille, who was glaring at her. “Do settle your stomach, Lucille,” Aurora told her. “I dread to think how embarrassing it would be if a first year made a slug dance and you threw up.”

The others did all laugh at that, and even Lucille gave a reluctant half-smile. “So long as they keep well away from me,” she said. “I’ll be quite alright.”

The run up to Halloween saw increased nerves amongst the first years, but Aurora felt nervous too. She kept seeing shadows everywhere she turned, no matter how she tried to ignore them. Come the morning of October the 31st, however, she was determined simply to enjoy her day and the feast, and revel in the nerves of the first years that night, and make use of the party, which she hadn’t been able to do last year.

“I think I’ll sneak a firewhisky,” Draco told her in Herbology. “Shouldn’t be too hard, I doubt anyone will really stop me.”

“I’ll stop you,” Aurora said, and he glared at her. “I’ll tell Narcissa.”

“You won’t.”

“Will.”

“You’re such a spoilsport.” She stuck her tongue out, laughing at Draco.

“Maybe you can sneak me one too.”

While last year none of them had been able to properly enjoy the Halloween Feast, this year was exceptional. Pastries and pies were stacked high on the tables, desserts were everywhere and the only vegetable anyone seemed to be eating was pumpkin. It was, in a word, glorious. “There’ll be more of this tonight,” Pansy said, plucking a large, blood red velvet cupcake from a stack. “Oh, I can’t wait. Mother said it’s always so much fun waiting for the firsties to come back, everyone gets together and the food!” She grinned. “Beautiful!”

Aurora smirked back at her, taking a cupcake for her own. The feast seemed never ending, a torrent of food and laughter, yet at the same time seemed to be over far too soon. She led the other girls out of the Great Hall in the swarm of excited students. Hestia and Flora Carrow were begging their older cousin, Demeter, to tell them what was in store for them during initiation, but she refused to tell them a word, as was tradition. A gaggle of young boys were discussing snakes in low, worried voices. Pansy hissed at them and one squealed, causing all the girls to laugh as they turned the corner towards Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom.

Aurora stopped dead in her tracks. The corridor had been flooded, but that wasn’t all. There was a trail of what looked like blood leading to Potter, Weasley and Granger, who stood staring at something. “What’s going on?” Millicent whispered.

“I don’t know.”

The rest of the crowd was pressing onwards, and they hurried to keep up. Potter and his friends turned, just enough that Aurora could see what they had been looking at. Filch’s cat was hanging from the wall, frozen, and on the wall above her... She clamped her hands to her mouth.

The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir beware.

It was written in blood. “Yaxley,” one of the seventh years said to a younger Prefect, “get Snape. Now!”

Yaxley, who had been staring at the wall in horror, jumped to action and sprinted down the corridor. “Enemies of the Heir beware?” Draco read out loud, looking nowhere near as horrified as everyone else. He was staring between the three Gryffindors. “You’ll be next, Mudbloods.”

“Draco,” Aurora hissed urgently, tugging him back. “Don’t. That’s Filch’s cat.”

“I know, that-“

“Out of my way.” Dumbledore’s voice rang urgently through the corridor. He swept past them all in violet robes, face more serious than Aurora had ever seen it, and towards Potter and his friends. “What has happened here?”

They all started speaking at once. “We found it like this,” Potter said quickly, which was immediately suspicious. “Professor, someone’s hurt Filch’s cat.”

“Prefects,” Dumbledore said, addressing them, “take your students to their common rooms and stay there. This is a grave incident.”

No one needed telling twice. There was a crush as the Slytherins all turned the same way, going around the other side of the bathroom to find the entrance to the dungeons, squeezing down the narrow staircases. Somewhere, Aurora got ahold of Gwen and pulled her along, heart hammering nervously. Draco’s words rang in her head. She’d never heard of the chamber of secrets, not that she could recall, but something about it seemed familiar, and certainly not in a good way. She didn’t like how Draco had brought up Muggleborns. How he’d referred to them. And Filch’s cat... She kept a very tight hold of Gwen and kept her firmly between her and Daphne when they got back to the common room, claiming their usual sofa.

“What Heir?” Daphne whispered as soon as they were seated. “What’s the chamber of secrets?”

“I don’t know,” Pansy hissed, and she didn’t sound happy about it. “Aurora?”

“You think I’d know?” She shook her head. “Who would do this?”

“You saw Potter, didn’t you?” Lucille said, flicking her hair. “Rather suspicious to loiter at the scene of a crime. And did anyone see him at the feast?”

“I don’t think he’d kill a cat,” Gwen said dubiously. “Well, I don’t,” she said, when Pansy looked at her. “Do you?”

“No,” Millicent said slowly. “I don’t see what he’d get out of that.”

“Scaring people?” Pansy suggested.

“No,” Aurora said, “he’s more of a saving people type of person.”

“But what,” Gwen started, looking nervous. She lowered her voice. “Who are Mudbloods?”

They all stared at her. Aurora didn’t know what to say. She was glad Gwen didn’t know what it meant, but she didn’t know how to tell her, and she didn’t want to think on what Draco had said. They’d be next. Clearly he knew something none of them did. “Muggleborns,” Pansy said at last, though even she looked apprehensive.

Gwen looked like she’d been slapped. “What?”

“It’s a foul word,” Daphne told her. “I can’t believe Draco said that.”

“He called Granger it, too. That day when we got into the fight with the Gryffindor Team.”

“He did not,” said Millicent, sounding appalled. “Mother told me never to say such a thing!”

“But what - what did he mean?” Gwen asked quickly. She’d gone quite white. “That they - we - would be next?”

Everyone looked at each other uncomfortably. “I don’t know,” Aurora said, though she had an inkling that was hard to ignore. “I’ll speak to-“

The common door opened sharply and Snape billowed in, black cloak rippling around him. He was white with fury, looking around at them, and though Aurora had done nothing wrong she still managed to feel guilty when he looked at her. “I would like everybody to gather here,” he said. “Prefects, ensure there is nobody left in the dormitories.”

A couple of prefects scurried off. The second years closed ranks together quickly, until they were all assembled around their cluster of seats and sofas. Sally-Anne Perks was pale and looked like she might burst into tears; Aurora remembered she had a great love for animals, and had always been squeamish in Potions, especially if blood was involved. Only a handful of students trickled back out of the dormitories; no one had wanted to be on their own after what they’d just seen.

“A grave offense has just occurred,” Snape said lowly. “I do not expect you all to understand what has happened tonight. Indeed, many of you may still not understand the gravity or the meaning behind this situation.” Everyone was listening very intently. Aurora could hear her heart beating extra loudly. “The chamber of secrets has indeed been opened for the first time in fifty years. The Heir referenced in the writing on the wall is the Heir of Slytherin.” There was a sharp intake of breath. Gwen went white and clutched Aurora’s hand tightly. “If any of you,” his eyes glittered around the room, “know anything about this incident, I ask you to come forward now.” Nobody moved. His eyes fell deliberately on Aurora. “No one?” She held his gaze. Why did he think she had anything to do with this? “Very well. I would like to reiterate to you all the seriousness of this. This is not a prank, this is an attack, and will be treated with the utmost gravity. I know that tonight is an important night for Slytherin House. The decision on the initiation rests ultimately with its students; but spare a thought for what has just taken place. Consider what Slytherin’s legacy ought to be. And if anyone wishes to come forward at any point... I urge you to do so.”

He swept from the common room and the moment the door closed, they went into uproar. “Heir of Slytherin?” Daphne hissed. “There isn’t one!”

“The line died out decades ago!”

“It explains what Draco said,” Millicent whispered. “About, you know... Muggleborns.”

“Why?”

“Slytherin didn’t want Muggleborns in the school, only purebloods,” Pansy explained. Gwen looked aghast and Aurora winced. That wasn’t the way she would have broken it to her.

“Why?”

“Well, most Muggles wanted to burn us at the stake at that point in history,” Daphne said.

“That’s not the only-“ Pansy faltered at the warning look on Aurora’s face. Gwen was spooked enough.

“Are they going to cancel the initiation, do you think?” Blaise asked, leaning over, Draco and Crabbe either side of him.

“They can’t!” Pansy sounded quite appalled. “It’s tradition!”

“Think how it would look though,” Aurora whispered. “To celebrate Slytherin values after what’s just been done in his name.”

“It wasn’t any of us that did it!” Pansy said. “It certainly wasn’t a first year!”

“It would be in poor taste,” Lucille said, wrinkling her nose. “But I don’t see how they can cancel it. Seven hundred years didn’t see them cancel it.”

“What if the heir’s still out there though?” Gwen whispered.

“None of the firsties will have to worry about that,” Draco sneered. “The Heir wouldn’t attack a Slytherin, not when they know about the initiation.”

“You’re presuming the Heir was in Slytherin,” Blaise pointed out.

“Obviously he was,” Draco said. “How could the Heir of Slytherin not be?”

“You don’t think this is because of the initiation, do you?” Daphne said.

“Because of it?”

“Part of it,” Daphne clarified.

“I didn’t see anyone stringing up a cat on a wall when we were initiated,” Aurora said, and Daphne flushed.

“No,” Millicent said slowly, “but someone did let a troll in.”

“Which has nothing to do with the initiation,” Lucille reminded them. “That was Quirrel, wasn’t it?”

They all sobered at the memory, and a stiff silence fell in their little bubble. Aurora’s mind churned. Could this have anything to do with the Dark Lord? Surely not. “I don’t suppose anyone has the blood trees on hand?” Pansy asked, and they all shook their heads.

“Blood trees?” Gwendolyn whispered, looking quite alarmed.

“Of our families. Most purebloods have them, the Black tree can be traced to the eleventh century. We could try tracing them back to Slytherin.”

Gwen stared at her. “That’s... Great, Aurora.”

“Alright!” The Prefect Joseph Farron called over the common room and everyone went very still and quiet. “In light of recent events, we have had a discussion, and the first year initiation will go ahead, with some modifications. No first year is to leave the dungeons; in fact, no student is. There will not be the usual party while this is all going on, as we feel this would be in bad taste.” Draco made a face. “With that said, we would appreciate as many of you as possible joining us at midnight. I assure you, this common room will be quite safe from any threat.” Farron nodded. “That is all. First years, clear off to your beds and meet back here at midnight, sharp. You will be punished for lateness.”

The first years scrambled to get to their rooms. Aurora knew just how exhausted they would all be by the end of the night. “They’re taking this seriously then,” Millicent whispered as the chatter resumed in the common room.

“Why wouldn’t they?” Gwen whispered in response. “It is serious! Filch’s cat’s been killed!”

“Oh, don’t say that,” Aurora moaned. The cat had to be dead, she thought, but it was still horrid. Draco had looked so pleased, even excited, but she didn’t understand how anyone couldn’t be revolted by what they’d seen.

“Don’t worry about Stella,” Pansy told her. “They won’t go after the cat of a Black.”

“That doesn’t make it better,” Aurora said, leaning her head against the back of the sofa.

“It’s only a cat, Aurora,” Lucille said. “And the Heir poses no threat to us.”

“Yeah.” She shook her head, gaze falling on Gwen’s wan face. “I think I’m going to go for a nap. I’ll see you all at midnight?”

Pansy gave her a critical look, but no one challenged Aurora as she stood up and swept from the common room, Gwen following at her heels. “Did you hear that?” Gwen whispered. “What they were saying? Do you - do you think the Heir would hurt me?”

She looked at her for a long moment. “I don’t know, Gwen. I’d hope not.”

“But they might.” Gwen’s lip wobbled. “I’m not going to the initiation.”

“Gwen, it’s-“

“I’m not.” She went inside their room and got changed silently. Aurora didn’t know what to say to her, only got herself changed and crawled into her own bed, setting an alarm for quarter to three.

She’d never heard of the chamber of secrets before, or the Heir of Slytherin. She knew the Black family had become entangled with the Slytherins and Gaunts at one point - they were all purebloods, after all - but that sort of thinking meant anyone could be the Heir if you went far back enough, even Weasley. She curled up under her sheets tiredly, ill at ease. This wasn’t what Slytherin ought to be about. Whoever killed Mrs Norris, they didn’t understand that.

But then she thought to the way Draco had responded with relish, to the way the other girls had dismissed Gwen, how the affair was treated as gossip. Had she played a part in that? Maybe she had. It still didn’t sit right with her. Perhaps she ought to forego the initiation tonight as well, as protest, but what good would it do? It would only attract attention, and as last year’s top ranking student, she was expected to attend.

No, she thought, dozing to sleep. Best to go, if only for appearances. And that way, if this was all to do with the initiation, she could find out. Maybe get a sense of the sort of threat the Heir posed. Maybe make sure they didn’t get Gwen.


	26. Arguments and Rumours

While last year, after their initiation, Aurora’s year of Slytherins had taken to the school with renewed confidence and unity, this year’s group seemed torn between house pride and shame in what they had been told on Halloween night. Rumours continued to spread around the school, mainly concerning the identity of the Heir and the location of the chamber of secrets. Hermione Granger had taken to all but living in the library, which greatly frustrated Aurora any time she attempted to get a book out to read and found Granger at the end of the row, looking at her. It took all of her self control not to tell her to snap out of it. If she didn’t stop soon, she was sure she would have to hex her cross-eyed.

“They’re saying it’s you, you know,” Gwen told her quietly one night in their room. “That you’re the Heir of Slytherin.”

“Oh, great,” Aurora said, rolling her eyes from where she lay on her bed, “that’s just what I need. For more people to think I’m a murderer.”

“You’ve really no idea who it could be?”

“Of course not, Gwen,” she said tiredly. “You know I’d tell you if I did.”

“Yeah,” she said, “I know. It’s just, I can’t get it out of my head, what Malfoy said.”

“Draco was out of line,” she said slowly. “He’s been out of line rather a lot recently. I don’t know what’s making him worse - his family isn’t - I mean... They’re not exactly open minded, but he’s cockier now. But he’s not a killer.”

“They said the cat isn’t really dead, though. Just Petrified.”

“He still wouldn’t do it,” Aurora said. Draco was her best - and oldest - friend. If she didn’t trust him then who could she trust? Plus, he rather liked to make a scene. If he was the Heir, she at least would know about it. “I know he wouldn’t.”

“Do you?” Gwen didn't sound convinced.

“Course I do. I know Draco. And besides, he was at the feast the whole time, I was sitting right next to him. He’s not the Heir, and he’s not a killer either.”

While over the course of first year, the stares and whispers directed at Aurora had died down somewhat, now she realised they increased tenfold. Not only that, but people ducked out of her way when they saw her coming, like they were frightened of her. It was incredibly frustrating. “If I wanted them to be frightened of me,” she complained to Pansy in Defense Against the Dark Arts, “then I’d have cursed someone. You know, actually done something myself. And I was at the feast that night, I physically couldn’t have done it!”

“Harry Potter!” Lockhart called. “Come on up, let’s have a re-enactment! Wandering with Werewolves this time!”

Aurora glared as Potter took to the front of he classroom. He’d been called up to re-enact numerous Lockhart scenes, something which had served mainly to put the Slytherin girls off of Lockhart for good. He was another one accused of being the Heir - though why anyone would call him the Heir of Slytherin was beyond her. He was stupid, yes, and arrogant and reckless, but just as she knew Draco wasn’t a killer, she knew that Potter wasn’t either, no matter what circumstances he had been found in.

She still didn’t like him, though. “I hate this class,” she muttered as he began a very dry reading of the book. Pansy patted her sympathetically on the arm.

As often happened, she took her frustration out in Potions. It had once soothed her to see the product of her work come together before her eyes, but with all the looks she was getting, she was off her usual standard and she knew it, as did Snape. He took every opportunity he could to rile her up, and eventually she snapped. “Maybe you could do with a hair-cleaning potion, sir,” she muttered, knowing it would anger him. “Or else get out of my face when I’m trying to work.”

His face was white and angry. “Detention tonight, Black.”

It didn’t bother her much, not really. Scrubbing cauldrons was something of a cathartic process, and it at least gave her time to think while doing something relatively productive. What she did feel bad about was Neville Longbottom, who as a result of Snape’s spiked anger had been even more nervous in class than usual, and earned himself a detention with her for accidentally blowing up his cauldron. They were set to work together while Snape marked essays.

Aurora didn’t fail to notice the way Neville’s eyes kept flickering to Snape, like he expected an insult or a slap at any moment. Even as the detention wore on, he looked more and more nervous. It was somewhat nice to realise she was not the most feared person in a room, but it also occurred to her that Neville really shouldn’t look that scared of a teacher. He let them go only shortly before curfew, with a curt look at Aurora and a sneering comment about how Neville likely did a better job at scrubbing cauldrons with Muggle way than he could of trying to use his wand.

“You ought to stop acting so scared,” Aurora said as they left the classroom, and Neville looked at her in surprise. “You could be good at Potions if you didn’t get distracted by him.”

Neville flushed red. “Well, he’s right. I’m lousy at magic and at Potions. It’s no wonder he hates me.”

“He’s your teacher,” Aurora said. “That’s his problem, not yours.” She scoffed, glancing at Neville. He still looked white. “You’re not bad at everything Neville.”

“All I’m good at’s Herbology,” he muttered. “And my gran says that’s barely magic.”

“Well, I think it is,” she said haughtily, flipping her hair. Neville stared. “I’m wretched with plants, they seemed to hate me. Sprout says I’m too aggressive with them, most witches get along great with plants.” She shrugged, and looked sideways a him. Neville was really good at Herbology, and she saw a sudden opportunity. “I could help you if you like.”

Neville startled. “What?”

“With Potions. If you’d like, I could help teach you. You’re good at Herbology so it stands to reason that you have a basic understanding of Potions properties and ingredients, but Snape clearly isn’t the best teacher for you. But, well...” She put on a nervous face, even though she wasn’t truly nervous. This could work out well. “I need help with Herbology, too?”

Neville brightened as he caught on, smiling. “Well, I could help you with that! Professor Sprout lets me work in the greenhouses with her sometimes, and she even has this species of tentacula that she showed me, and I’m not allowed in on my own, but she might let you join me if we study together!” She didn’t think she’d ever heard Neville say so much in one go. It made her smile. “If - if you want to.”

“Of course,” she said, and her grin was genuine. “We should probably get going before curfew, but we can figure it out later. I just thought I ought to ask.”

Neville looked in a considerably better mood as he went up the stairs, and Aurora smiled somewhat fondly after him. It was nice to have someone grateful to her for a change, rather than scared of her. And she found that being genuinely nice to Neville did make her feel better about things, too. She grinned as she went quickly to the common room, not wanting to be late and land another detention, regardless of how this had turned out. Of course, this arrangement had other considerable benefits other than simply making her feel like she was a good person. Neville had been so eager for help and to be of use that it had been easy to get him to agree. Still, she reasoned, slipping into the common room, she had done a good thing. For a Gryffindor, no less. And it did feel good.

The second Saturday in November brought with it the annual Quidditch match between Slytherin and Gryffindor. After their frankly humiliating defeat last year, Flint was determined that Slytherin would retain the cup this year.

“We have the best Chaser, best Keeper, best Beaters and best Seeker,” he said, pacing the locker room floor before the match on Saturday morning. “Not only that, but we have the best brooms money can buy!” Draco beamed proudly. “Potter is one good player! One! Higgs messed up last year; Malfoy, if you let Potter have the Snitch, I swear I’ll have you running laps for a month.” Draco gulped. “Black, be ready to jump in at any moment. I doubt we’ll need you, but nevertheless.”

She turned her head so he wouldn’t see her rolling her eyes. “Thanks, Flint.”

“Alright. Brooms at the ready, boots on, hands in.”

Aurora grabbed her broom, sticking her hand into the ring of Slytherin green sleeves. “To greatness,” Flint yelled.

“To greatness!”

“To a nine year streak!”

“To a nine year streak!”

“To kicking Gryffindor’s sorry scarlet arses!”

They all beamed as they yelled back that last part. “To kicking Gryffindor’s sorry scarlet arses!”

Flint cheered as they separated, running out with their brooms onto the pitch. “Good luck!” Aurora yelled, as she took her place by the benches, watching the Gryffindors head out. They didn’t have a reserve, which was cocky of them. If they lost any player, especially a crucial one like the Keeper or Seeker, they’d be at a major disadvantage without anyone to step in. The Slytherins were going to exploit that as much as they could, Aurora knew. She wouldn’t mind seeing Potter getting taken down, except she wanted Draco to win of his own accord. Then again, he would be insufferable about it for weeks - but it was a small price to pay for victory.

“On my whistle!” Madam Hooch, the referee, called as Flint and Wood shook hands, both looking murderous. “Three, two, one!”

The players all took to the air in blurs. of red and air. Aurora made sure she was following the game as best she could, which largely meant keeping her eyes on the Chasers. Slytherin scored once, then twice, to the frustration of the Gryffindor supporters. Aurora grinned, cheering her support for her team. Potter swooped in her direction and she pointedly waved her broom handle, causing him to glare, swerving sharply out of the way. A Bludger plummeted after him and Aurora leapt up to duck out of the way - but something very strange happened. The Bludger changed course just a foot from her, and went soaring after Potter again.

Aurora sat down, blinking in surprise, but watched Potter and the rest of the game intensely. Slytherin scores again again, but she couldn’t help but notice the very odd way the Bludger was acting. Whether anyone else had noticed or not, the Bludger was following Potter. She saw the Weasleys trying to bat it furiously away towards Aurora’s own team - mainly at Draco, who was stupidly hovering where the goalposts for most of the match rather than surveying for the Snitch as Aurora would have done - but that Bludger kept returning to Potter.

Bludgers didn’t act like that unless they’d been tampered with. Aurora considered pointing it out, but it would be fruitless - Hooch would have called time out if she thought it was wrong, and the Gryffindors were distracted by the Bludger’s behaviour, which gave Slytherin a considerable advantage. Besides, Potter had yet to get injured by it at all.

It started to come on rain, turning the ground beneath Aurora’s feet into mud and making it slippy. It was alright for students in the relatively sheltered stands, and the players who were warm from adrenaline and from swooping around the pitch, but Aurora sat half-frozen to the bench, shivering. “Come on, Draco,” she muttered under her breath, watching her friend searching worriedly for the Snitch. “Hurry it up and end the game already.”

As soon as Draco saw the Snitch, Aurora knew, he would all but have it. It would be impossible for Potter to play properly now, considering he not only had a Bludger on his tail but both Weasley twins at his side, protecting him with their bats but also hindering his movements. Gryffindor couldn’t keep this up very long. The score ticked over seventy to ten, and Aurora rubbed her hands together nervously to try and work some warm blood back into them. They seemed to realise the state they were in, and eventually Wood called for a time out.

“It must be the Slytherins,” Aurora heard Fred Weasley say, as her own team came to touch down and make their way to her.

“Black,” Flint barked, and she hurried to stand up. “You’ve been watching the game; any idea what’s making the Bludger go for Potter?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. Far as I can tell, it’s being doing that all game.”

Flint nodded. “I thought so too. Well, none of us have anything to do with it, do we?” They all shook their heads. “Right. We’re far ahead now, and it doesn’t look like Potter’s going to make a shot for the Snitch anytime soon. We play as we have been, it’s clearly working. Malfoy, you see the Snitch, you go for it immediately, alright? Black, stay on the bench.”

She nodded with false politeness, wishing more than anything that she could have a go on the pitch with the others. “Got it.”

“How are you feeling?” Aurora asked Draco as the two of them split a little from the rest of the team, who were jeering in the direction of the Gryffindors.

“Fine,” he said tensely. “Potter doesn’t stand a chance, you heard Flint. It’s only a matter of time before I catch the Snitch and we win; then I’ll show him.”

Aurora nodded, smirking over in the direction of the furious Gryffindors. “Keep it up.”

Madam Hooch blew her whistle to signal the rest of the team to take their positions again. Aurora clapped Draco on the shoulder and hurried back over to her bench, watching as they took to the skies once more. The Weasley twins appeared to have given up on guarding Potter, leaving him to deal with the rogue Bludger on his own. Aurora still didn’t think he’d manage to get the Snitch, not when he was having to switch his direction all the time to avoid the Bludger.

He was having some sort of altercation with Draco in mid air, when the Bludger slammed into his arm and knocked him to the side. Aurora cringed, but Potter, to his credit, seemed determined to keep on his broom. He made a lunge at Draco, who startled and dropped down, but Aurora realised what Potter had seen. The Snitch flickered just by the spot where Draco’s ear had been, but then swooped away before Potter could get it. She breathed easier, but roared, “Draco! Get after him!”

Both of them were diving towards the ground, Potter cradling his broken elbow and reaching with the other arm. His face was creased in exertion. Draco had hesitated too long, failing to realise his situation, and though his broom ought to be faster, he didn’t seem to have the same command over it that Potter did, and though he was gaining on him, it was too slow. Much too slow. “No!” Aurora yelled, but Potter was not to be deterred. His fingers closed around the Snitch a mere moment before he hit the ground, landing in a heap but with his unbroken arm still held in the air in triumph.

Draco came to a stop just behind him, red in the face and furious. Madam Hooch blew her whistle for the game to come to a stop, and gradually the other players came down. Someone blasted the Bludger to pieces in the air and Aurora stood up, trying to get a look at Potter, who had crashed and wasn’t stirring. “Madam Hooch?” she yelled over the din of the crowd. “I think he’s fainted!”

Hooch was already hurrying over, along with a large proportion of the crowd, Granger and Weasley in the lead. But behind them was Lockhart, brandishing his wand. “Never fear!” she could hear him calling. “I am here!”

She snorted as Draco stomped over. “Bloody Potter,” he muttered, as Flint stormed to him.

“What was that? We had them, Malfoy!” He shook his head in disgust. “You need to be quicker. If you get distracted like that against Ravenclaw, we might have to put Black in, and then where will we be?” Aurora would have retorted if she wasn’t so curious as to what Lockhart was about to do to Potter. From the looks of things, he was going to try to fix his elbow. “Come on,” Flint said. “Back to the changing room. You too, Black, stop gawping.”

She shut her mouth quickly and followed after the rest of the team. Draco was glowering. “I had him,” he muttered. “I did.”

She patted his shoulder in sympathy. “You played really well, Draco. You’ll get him next time, I’m sure.”

The Slytherins were in a rather bad mood that night. Draco argued with Potter even more than usual, and the common room was noticeable tense, especially as most people seemed to blame his inexperience for their failure. He was bemoaning the unfairness of the situation to Crabbe, Goyle and Blaise loudly every night, while Aurora sat researching for a Potions essay, the girls chattering quietly around her.

“You do have to wonder,” Pansy was saying, as Aurora flipped between moonstone and asphodel properties, “who jinxed that Bludger to go after Potter?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Daphne whispered. “It must have been the Heir!”

“The Heir?” Lucille echoed. “Don’t be silly, Daphne, the Heir of Slytherin wouldn’t care about a Quidditch match.”

“But it’s Potter,” Pansy whispered. “And the Heir would obviously be a Slytherin supporter.”

“But why do it in front of everyone?” Lucille asked. “It wouldn’t make sense. Last time, the Heir struck while everyone was at the feast.”

“Everyone except Potter and his friends,” Gwen pointed out.

“You don’t think Potter’s the Heir, too, do you?”

“I think the Heir might be targeting Potter.”

“But they’re the Heir of Slytherin,” Daphne pointed out with a sniff. “I’d like to think they’d be a bit more elegant.”

Millicent shook her head. “You care too much about being elegant, Daphne. The Heir wants to knock Potter off, they’ll do it whatever way they want.” She shrugged. “But I don’t get the point of killing the cat.”

“Can we all just drop this?” Aurora said brittly, having been distracted from her writing by their discussion. “It’s all anyone’s been talking about, the conversation is growing dull very fast.”

“So you don’t have any theories?”

“Not that I’m going to discuss, no.” She looked at them sharply. “I think everyone’s entirely too excited about the whole affair. Maybe it was just a one-off affair for Halloween. It’s been two weeks with no further developments.”

But when they woke in the morning, it was to news that there had indeed been another attack: Colin Creevey, the little Gryffindor. Aurora felt rather sick as she ate her breakfast. He was so small, only a first year. Poor thing. Gwen was visibly shaken by it, too, head bent in a quiet conversation with Robin a few places down from the others, looking rather pale.

“Serves him right,” Draco muttered. “Always jumping about after Potter.”

“He’s a kid, Draco,” Aurora said sharply, glaring at him. “It’s horrid what’s happened to him.”

“You would say that.”

“Yes,” Aurora told him, with a hard look. She hated how he’d reacted to all of this, and she didn’t understand it either. It wasn’t that she didn’t know some of the ideas he and most of the purebloods she knew had been raised with. She’d been taught some of the same, but hearing them out loud and seeing their practice... And knowing Gwen and Ted and so many people now outside her bubble... It didn’t sit right with her. Did that make her a Blood Traitor? To not wish people dead for their family? If it did, did she really care? “I would.”

She got up and moved deliberately to sit between Daphne and Theodore instead, leaving Draco to glare at her with a put-out expression, and Pansy to immediately latch onto him instead. “What’s wrong with you?” Daphne asked, staring at her.

“Nothing,” Aurora muttered, glancing at Draco, who seemed to have moved on very quickly and was chatting happily to Pansy about his theory on the Heir. “Just wanted a change of scenery.”

Both Daphne and Theodore gave her dubious looks, but they didn’t question her further.

Even so, she could feel a slight shift between her and Draco, like something had been knocked off-balance. And she didn’t like it, because it shouldn’t have mattered in the first place. Pansy seemed mad at her too, even though she had nothing to do with it, and it was only a minor disagreement, if that at all. But she supposed a part of her was repelling them too, on instinct. She hated that part of her, just a little, but she hated that any of this was happening in the first place.

Gwen and Robin at least took it in their stride, as much as either of them could. The two of them proved an excellent pair to work with in Herbology, which had never been Aurora’s greatest subject, while in Potions, Aurora took to being Neville’s partner. The room was considerably less hazardous when she was watching him for mistakes, and correcting them quickly. In Transfiguration, the group of three Slytherins wound up sitting nearer to Potter and his friends than Aurora would have liked, but she didn’t comment on it, too preoccupied by the annoyed looks Pansy kept throwing across the room at her.

She didn’t understand why it had to matter so much. Had this been how her father had felt, once upon a time? She didn’t like to think of it, but she couldn’t stop herself from doing so. Had he seen the teachings of his family misalign with the world around him? Had he felt the sting of rejection for disagreeing? Was that what had driven him to turn full Blood Traitor, befriend the Potters? Or was that what had pulled him back into the fray a Death Eater? Was that the way they were all headed in the end?

“You look awfully down,” Gwen murmured quietly to her, pulling Aurora from her thoughts.

“This is a mess,” she said, and though she looked at her scribble, half-formed notes, that wasn’t all she meant and she had a feeling Gwen knew it. The words Blood Traitor rang in her head. She snuck a glance at Draco and Pansy on the their side of the classroom, both whispering quietly. Pansy laughed loudly and there was a pang in Aurora’s chest. Why did one argument have to matter so much? “It’s fine,” she told Gwen, “I just need to concentrate.”

In an effort to prove first to herself that she was absolutely in no way like her father, Aurora threw herself vigorously into studying. She didn’t think that Animal Transfiguration and The Transition of Life and Enchanted Animation were the reading material a Gryffindor like him would have been most interested in, which was exactly why she plucked them from the library shelves.

She ought to learn more this year anyway. Last year she had spent so much time focused on the Philosopher’s Stone, a noble quest indeed, but one that she was realising was severely flawed. To understand Alchemy she first had to understand the prime concept of Transfigurational Magic, as well as get a better grasp of the trickier and less-taught elemental basis of magic, concerning primarily metal but also the core of life, which ran through all magic. That core was why witches and wizards often had a way with plants, whether magical or non-Magical, and why most of them lived much longer lives than Muggles. So that was why she was reading so much.

Pansy laughed at it quietly in the common room when she thought Aurora wasn’t paying attention. I’m doing this for a reason, she wanted to say. I’m going to be great because of it, so great no one will remember my father, not even me. He will be no part of me.

She also found, to her surprise, that she really enjoyed working with Neville. He was shy a lot of the time, and didn’t always meet her in the eye, but she began to realise that he was like that with most people, not just her. Professor Sprout, who had never been much a fan of Aurora’s due to her less than cheerful attitude and poor grades in class, even warmed up to her during the hours she and Neville spent in the greenhouses. He taught her about the best ways to handle various plants, and occasionally rambled on about plants that had nothing to do with what they were learning, but they clearly interested him and Aurora enjoyed having someone speak so freely in front of her. Few of her housemates did so. In return, she taught him about Potions and helped him get a better grasp on the theory. “You have to be cautious,” she told him. “Every action has to be measured, and you have to be confident in what you’re doing or you won’t be able to focus so well.”

She was pleased to find that he was making improvements, and positively beamed when he got an A on his essay. “Snape thought I cheated, I did so well!” he cheered.

“I told you you’re better than you think,” Aurora said, also grinning; she herself had only gotten an E, but coming from Snape she figured that meant an Outstanding. “Don’t let him tell you different.”


	27. The Duelling Club

The second week in December, Snape came around with a roll of parchment so the students who were staying over the holidays could register their names. Though the Tonkses had invited Aurora to stay, she preferred to stay at Hogwarts where she could read and be relatively alone for a little while without anyone whispering and distracting her. In the wake of the attack on Creevey, many people had started pointing the finger at her even more - “Her father was a murderer, she’s a Slytherin and an old pureblood, why not?” She wanted to scream.

It did come as a surprise to her, however, when she discovered that Draco would also be staying for the Christmas holidays. He approached her after seeing her name on the list, and though they hadn’t spoken properly in a while, he sat down and started a quite amicable conversation about human Transfiguration, which she had been reading about. “Of course,” he said, “it’s very advanced magic. But if anyone’s going to be reading about that sort of thing, it’s you, isn’t it?”

His comment made her beam and then, quickly, he was fine again, and so was Pansy and everyone else. Gwen sighed when Aurora moved to sit beside Draco in History again, but she didn’t say anything - not to Aurora, anyway. The great excitement of the week came in Thursday afternoon’s Potions lesson with Gryffindor. For the purposes of staying out Snape’s eye, Aurora remained with Neville in the back of the classroom nearer the Gryffindors, Gwen and Robin behind her. With Potter around, Snape was generally distracted with many more opportunities for bullying, and Neville didn’t cause so many accidents to draw his attention anymore.

They were working on Swelling Solutions, something which was considerably more difficult than last year’s work, but Aurora felt she was managing. The consistency was admittedly runnier than she would have liked, but had she been given a bit more time it could have obtained a high mark.

But about fifteen minutes from the end, someone sent a firework soaring into Goyle’s cauldron, causing it to explode. His Swelling Solution erupted over the classroom like a volcano, and Aurora had to duck to avoid it. Neville wasn’t quite so lucky; his left hand swelled to the size of a pufferfish and he went miserably to the front of the classroom so Snape could administer the antidote. Aurora was left behind lingering in the shadowy back, trying to scrub some of the mess from her table, when she saw Hermione Granger dart through the chaos in and out of Snape’s supply cupboard, with ingredients stuffed very unsubtly down her robes. She stared at her. What was Granger thinking, robbing Snape? It was clear that Potter and Weasley were in on it too, and Aurora gave them very significant looks. Potter went white, but they gave no further indication of what they had done, and Aurora wouldn’t have been surprised if Granger had put a Vanishing Spell on her bag to retrieve at a later time. She was watching them, though, from that point on.

Especially considering how Snape said he’d expel whoever set the firework off and gave Aurora a deliberate, nasty look. She hadn’t done anything in his class this year except keep her head down, help Neville out a little, and produce good work. But apparently that wasn’t what he asked of his students, or at least not those named Aurora Black.

A week later, a notice was posted in the Entrance Hall, stating that Hogwarts would be holding a Duelling Club. “The first meeting’s tonight,” Pansy said, addressing their reformed knot of Slytherins. “Shall we?”

They all nodded eagerly, and so at eight o’clock that evening they went upstairs to the Great Hall together. There was a pretty good turnout from across the houses - Potter and his friends were there too, of course - and everyone was speculating on who would be teaching them. Aurora’s bets were on Flitwick, alleged to have been a Duelling Champion when he was younger, and so she was sorely disappointed to see Lockhart take to the golden stage at the end of the Hall. “Granger’s going to wet herself with excitement,” Lucille murmured, and Pansy laughed loudly. He was also accompanied by Snape, who looked most displeased by the situation.

Lockhart waved an arm and the gossiping hall quietened. “Gather round, gather round! Can everyone see me? Hear me? Excellent!

“Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little Duelling Club.” It was hardly little, Aurora thought, considering most of the school seemed to have turned up. “We’re going to train you all up in case you ever need a little extra protection to defend yourselves, as I myself have done on many occasions - for full details, please see my published works.”

Aurora snorted. “Like they’re not on all our booklists anyway.”

“Anything for publicity,” Lucille murmured.

“Now, let me introduce my glamorous assistant, Professor Snape.” Aurora and Gwen both had to try very hard not to laugh. Professor Snape was the opposite of glamorous, and he was also looking rather murderous at the thought of being referred to as assistant. “He tells me he knows a little bit about Duelling himself and so has agreed to help me demonstrate before we begin! Now, I don’t want any of you youngsters to worry - you’ll still have your Potions Master when I’m through with him!”

“I hope Snape decimates him,” Millicent said with glee as the two professors turned to one another. Lockhart bowed with a lot of unnecessary flourish, while Snape merely jerked his head. It was more than most would get out of him. Both held their wands at their sides and then raised them slowly in front of themselves.

“As you see, we are holding our wand in the accepted combative position. On the count of three, we will cast our first spells. Neither of us will be aimin to kill, of course.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if Snape did,” Lucille said - very, very quietly.

“One, two, three!”

“Expelliarmus!” Snape yelled, bringing his wand up. A jet of red light flew from the tip of his wand and Lockhart was blasted into the air, crashing into the wall so that he sprawled in the ground.

Aurora surprised herself by actually cheering Snape’s victory, though she stopped quickly. Lockhart got to his feet rather unsteadily, like he was trying not to appear as flustered as he really was. “Well, there you have it! That was a Disarming Charm - as you see, I have lost my wand - oh, thank you, Miss Brown.” Lavender Brown flushed as scarlet as a Gryffindor scarf. “Yes, it was an excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but if you don’t mind my saying, it was rather obvious what you were going to do. If I had wanted to, I could have easily blocked your spell. However, I felt it would be instructive to let them see. But enough demonstrating!” He was looking slightly nervous at the expression on Snape’s face. “I’m going to come amongst you now and put you into pairs. Professor Snape, if you would like to help me!”

Aurora moved automatically towards Daphne, who would be a good match for a duel, but Snape called her over. She startled at the sound of her name. “Yes, you, Black. Over here, see if you and Potter can’t finish each other off for me. Bulstrode, with Miss Granger.”

Millicent huffed, and Pansy gave her a very false apologetic look as she and Aurora moved off towards Potter and Granger. “Evening,” Aurora said, meeting Potter’s eyes. When Snape moved out of earshot, she moved close enough to whisper in his ear, “Nice stunt with the fireworks. I hope the ingredients you stole were worth it; it’d be such a shame if Snape found out and expelled you.”

When she stepped back, he was looking slightly rattled, which of course had been exactly what she was going for. She smirked, gripping her wand. This would be very interesting. She knew a fair few hexes and jinxes and a few curses as well, mostly from observation and reading, but Potter was one person she wouldn’t mind taking them out on if she was given the chance.

“Face your partners!” Lockhart called. Aurora gave Potter a hard look. “And now!” She inclined her head the tiniest bit, never dropping her intimidating gaze. “Wands at the ready! When I count to three, use your wands to disarm your opponent - only to disarm them - we don’t want any accidents! One, two, three!”

Aurora was quicker than Potter. The first syllable left her before he got through the number three. “Expelliarmus!”

In a flash of red, Potter was shoved back, his wandflying in the air, and he had to dive to catch it. Aurora smirked, but he just as quickly got his wand as he countered her. “Rictusempra!”

The spell hit her square in the chest and she doubled over, feeling all the breath knocked out of her a second before the horrid feeling of being tickled all over came over her. “Bastard,” she said between very undignified laughter, already raising her wand again. “Colloshoo!”

Her spell hit Potter’s feet. He tried moving to retaliate, but the hex worked, and his feet were stuck firmly to the ground, causing him to wobble in place rather foolishly and topple forwards, stuck halfway between standing and hitting the ground. “Stop!” Lockhart yelled, for Aurora’s laughing was beginning to get rather out of control. “Stop! I said disarm only!”

“Finite incantatem!” Snape shouted, and the tickling sensation left Aurora. She got to her feet with flaming cheeks and sent Potter her most hateful look.

A sort of greenish smoke hung over the scene. Pansy and Draco were arguing about the propriety of their spells, and looking over, Aurora saw that Millicent had abandoned her wand and now had Hermione Granger in a headlock. “Millie!”

Potter rushed forward and dragged Millicent off of Granger. Aurora helped reluctantly, giving Millicent a disapproving look as she dragged her away. “Really, Millicent?”

“She’s a Know-It-All,” Millicent said with a hard face. “Knew I wasn’t going to beat her with magic only and so did she. She got my wand so I went for her head. It worked.”

Aurora had to concede that point, no matter how undignified Millicent had appeared.

“I think I had better teach you all how to block unfriendly spells,” Lockhart said, looking rather flustered as he looked around the aftermath of the duels. “Let’s have a volunteer pair - Longbottom and Finch-Fletchley, how about you?”

“A terrible idea,” Snape said, eyes glittering. “Longbottom causes devastation with the simplest spells. We’ll be sending what’s left of Finch-Fletchley home in a matchbox.” Neville flushed pink and Aurora felt another surge of anger towards Snape. “How about another pair? Potter and Black, perhaps.” She knew he was just dying for them to both embarrass themselves.

She exchanged dark looks with Potter, but did as Snape instructed and took a place in the centre of the hall. Everyone else swept away to give them space. “Black,” Snape said in her ear, and she jumped. “When you come to duel, use the snake summoning Charm.”

“What, sir?”

“You do know the spell.”

“Yes,” she said quickly. “I’ve used it before but what good will it do in a duel?”

“It will disconcert your opponent,” he said. “Potentially bite and immobilise them. And if it gets you too, then all the more fun for me.”

He stepped away smartly before Aurora could retort, and she clenched her jaw. Concealed by all his insults, she knew Snape made a good point. Lockhart was doing some terrible flourishing of his arms, and Potter clearly was not learning how to block a spell either. She smirked at Potter, who glanced at Lockhart nervously. She wanted a good duel, and she wanted to win it.

“Professor, could you show me that blocking thing again?”

“Not quite up to it, Potter?” she taunted, and he glared at her.

“Just do what I did, Harry!” Lockhart said, cuffing him on the shoulder. “You’ll be grand!” He stepped away out of the crossfire and shouted, “Three, two, one, go!”

Aurora was quick to cast. “Serpensortia!”

There was an explosion from the end of her wand - she had, perhaps, overdone it a little - and a giant black snake shot out of it, slithering towards Potter, and reared up. He went white, and Aurora stepped forward anxiously, silently telling it not to strike. The crowd screamed, backing away, and Aurora kept the tip of her wand tracing the snake, holding it in place.

“Don’t move, Potter,” Snape said lazily, looking like he was enjoying himself immensely. Aurora tried to enjoy it, Potter standing there terrified, eye to eye with a very dangerous looking snake. “I’ll get rid of it...”

“Allow me!” Lockhart stepped forward, brandishing his wand, and though he clearly made an attempt to vanish the snake, all he accomplished was to create a large bang and aggravate it further.

Hastily, Aurora tried to stop the snake moving, but it shot towards Justin Finch-Fletchley, her wand still following it. She tried to pull it back even as it got ready to strike, but then Potter ran forward and hissed. The shock of it almost made her drop her wand, and she stared at him furiously. He was talking to the snake. Not like people normally spoke to animals, in sweetened English, but he was hissing.

Parselmouth. Snake speaker.

The snake slumped to the floor quite innocently, lying docile. Aurora stared at it, at Potter, and then back to the recently domesticated snake. “What did you do?” The question left her before she could stop it, and Potter rounded on her, looking quite confused.

“What do you think you’re playing at?” Finch-Fletchley yelled. “Both of you!” He turned and stormed from the hall. Aurora blinked as the doors slammed shut behind him.

Snape stepped forward to vanish the snake in a puff of smoke, but Aurora wasn’t done. She turned on Potter and said in a hiss - but an English hiss - “What did you just do?”

He stared at her, caught between confused and furious. “What are you on about, Black? I only told it-“

But whatever he had told it to do, Aurora wasn’t to find out, for Weasley and Granger had grabbed Potter and were hauling him out of the hall. Aurora stared at Snape, then after the three of them, and sighed. “Perhaps we ought to round it off there,” Lockhart said uneasily. “Off to bed, chop chop!”

“What was that?” Draco whispered as they left. “What’d you conjure a snake for?”

“Snape told me to. What was Potter up to, talking to it?”

“He’s a Parselmouth,” Pansy whispered, joining them. “Obviously.”

“How? He’s not - no.” She drew in a breath. “I know the blood trees. The Potters aren’t any relation to the Gaunts or the Slytherins. Are they?”

She was sure they weren’t, but then how could Potter be a Parselmouth? It was an inherited skill, not a language of words that could be learned as Latin or French were, but one of magic and understanding only fostered through blood and power. It was generally taken as a sign of a dark wizard, but Aurora didn’t think that was necessarily true - it was just that a lot of dark wizards had been Slytherins and they got a reputation for friendship with the snakes. Even so, she’d wanted to be a Parselmouth when she was young, determined to add it to her repertoire of languages. She’d never managed, mainly because there weren’t any Parselmouths left in Britain to learn from. So how could Potter speak it? People would know if the Potters were Parselmouths, and she didn’t know what family Potter’s mother was from but she had a feeling she was a Muggle-born, so it was highly unlikely there was a Slytherin relation on that side.

So how could Potter be a Parselmouth? The question haunted her all night, keeping her up. She ducked out of History early, knowing that Binn wouldn’t realise, and she wanted to get a book about Parseltongue from the library before anyone else could swipe one up. The library was only just along the corridor from the classroom, so it would take her two minutes to run back. She’d identified a couple of potentially useful books while hiding from Pince before she stumbled upon Potter hiding, too. Their eyes met and she stared at him, quite flustered.

His eyes fell on the books she was carrying, specifically the top one. The Language of Deceit: Dark Wizards and Snakes. “You don’t-“

She shushed him, seeing Madam Pince pass them, and ducked down so she could be concealed behind Potter. “Be quiet, Potter. How are you out of class?”

“It’s a blizzard,” he said. She huffed. “Why are you?”

“None of your business.” Madam Pince moved off. Potter was glaring at her, seemingly annoyed that she hadn’t told him the truth. She didn’t know what he had expected. “See you, Potter. Hope I didn’t scare you too much.”

She hurried back to class and stuffed the three books she’d found in her bag. She hadn’t checked them out, but she was a fast reader, and good at identifying what was useful and what wasn’t, so would be able to return them by the evening. She’d barely been back five minutes, however, when there was an awful lot of commotion from the corridor outside.

“It’s Justin Finch-Fletchley!” a girl shouted, running into their class, quite white. Binns continued his droning lecture, but everyone else sat bolt upright, turning to stare at her. “And Nearly Headless Nick! They’ve been Petrified! Just now! Just outside.”

Aurora tried not to swear.

Over the next few days before the end of term, she could tell people were talking about her. She wasn’t entirely unused to this, but it didn’t make it any better. First years scurried out her path, and the Hufflepuffs all gave her wary looks. She’d never been friends with any of them, but it didn’t mean she didn’t care about the way everyone reacted to her presence. What was worse was that, despite getting the same treatment as she was, Potter, seemed awfully suspicious of her, shooting glares across classrooms and whispering to his friends. It really was incredibly frustrating.

“That’s a Gryffindor and a Hufflepuff down now,” Pansy said over their Astronomy homework. “Ravenclaw must be next.”

“Don’t say that,” Aurora muttered.

“Well, it’s not going to be a Slytherin, is it?”

Gwen glanced up, if only for a moment, and then looked worriedly back down at her Potions essay. Aurora bit her lip. “I’d hope not, but I’d hope it isn’t anyone.”

“Me too,” Daphne said. “It’s horrid business. I can’t believe Dumbledore isn’t doing more to stop it. He’s meant to be the greatest wizard alive, and yet he can’t stop a student Petrifying others?”

“I doubt he knows who the Heir is,” Pansy said.

“Oh, but he must.” Lucille was frowning at them. “It was opened fifty years ago, remember? Whoever did it was expelled, and Dumbledore was already a Professor here, so he must know.”

They all stared at her, agape. “You didn’t think to mention this earlier!” Millicent yelped.

“Well, it seemed obvious!”

“There must be school records,” Aurora said quickly. “Students who have been expelled, or even just those who have attended. That must give some indication, and it would make sense that whoever the Heir was last time, their child - or maybe grandchild - would be the Heir now!”

“That could be anyone, though,” Pansy pointed out. “My grandfather was at Hogwarts fifty years ago, but he certainly was not the Heir.”

“I suppose,” Daphne said, pursing her lips. “I just don’t understand how Dumbledore isn’t doing anything. None of the professors are, not really! I don’t think they’d do something unless someone died at this rate.”

Gwen shuddered visibly, and closed her textbook loudly. “Don’t talk about people dying, please.”

“It’s realism,” Millicent said. She chewed the end of a sugar quill. “Do you think Dumbledore knows where the chamber of secrets is?”

“I doubt it,” Lucille said. “Otherwise they would have stopped it from being opened. I’m not entirely certain Dumbledore knows anything. If he does, he’s being very unhelpful.”

“Even so,” Aurora said quietly, “it worries me how quickly this has all progressed. There was only about a fortnight between the first two, and then five weeks between second and third - but those were two separate victims.” She furrowed her brow. “You have to wonder what might happen next term.”

“You’ll be safe over the holidays, won’t you?” Millicent said to her, looking worried.

“Of course she will,” Pansy said dismissively. “No ones going to hurt Aurora.” She glanced at her. “And besides, Draco’s staying.”

Daphne laughed. “I don’t really think Draco’s up to much defending.”

“I’ll be the one defending him,” Aurora said. “He’s bound to start a fight with Potter at some point.”

“As if you won’t,” Gwen said knowingly.

“I’m keeping my dignity,” she said, pursing her lips as the other girls laughed. “Now, all of you, we've barely anything left of the term. How about some gobstones?”


	28. Christmas Conspiracy

As had been the case last year, Hogwarts was a lot more peaceful over the Christmas holidays, when most of the students were at home. Potter and his friends were there, but at least this year Aurora didn’t have to sit alone at mealtimes - Draco was staying, and it seemed he had persuaded Crabbe and Goyle to stay, too. She didn’t stick with them very much during the day, preferring the company of the library books. Granger seemed to have taken the same approach, reading there on her own when the boys were off in the grounds. Once or twice the two girls caught each others’ eyes, but neither made an effort to talk.

Aurora had stumbled across the Astrology section, something which she had never had much of an interest in, but she found it was fascinating in its own way. She didn’t quite understand how the stars affected the path of witches and wizards, and she thought the book she was reading could benefit from a more solid theoretical explanation of this, but that didn’t stop it from being interesting. Centaurs, like the ones who lived in the Forbidden Forest, had a strong understanding of stellar and planetary movements, but they didn’t like to share their knowledge with humans, who they thought would never understand it. She personally thought that the centaurs’ attitude was a large part of why humans didn’t understand, not that she would ever dare say that to a centaur’s face.

On Christmas Day, Aurora woke to a stack of presents at the foot of her bed. Gwendolyn had sent her a collection of books by the Charles Dickens she kept mentioning, Pansy had sent a pink silk nightgown which was not quite Aurora’s style but still gorgeous, Daphne had sent her a lovely pair of emerald earrings, Lucille a hamper of biscuits, Millicent a large box of Honeydukes chocolates, and Draco gave her a book about the Slytherin Quidditch Team throughout the last two centuries. The Tonkses had also sent her gifts: Dora a box of wet-start fireworks that Aurora was not going to use anywhere near Snape, along with a Zonko’s hair colour changer, and from Andromeda and Ted a soft grey tartan scarf and a set of cornflower blue robes. It was more than she’d truly expected, and the fact that Dora had remembered her mention of wanting to dye her hair in the Summer, and that Andromeda and Ted had remembered her favourite colour... It was touching.

“Thanks for your present,” Aurora told Draco quietly when they reunited at Christmas lunch.

“Mother said a book wasn’t appropriate, but I thought you’d like it more than perfume, and I imagined Pansy or Daphne would have gotten you something like that.” Draco shrugged with a small smile. “I’m glad you like it.”

The day was cheerful enough, though Draco and the boys did insist on a snowball fight when she said she was going to the library. “Stop being such a swot,” Draco told her, tugging her outside.

“I’m on a team with Goyle, though,” she said quickly - he had better aim than Crabbe.

“You’re on,” Draco said, and the four of them went quickly to rolling up the snowballs and launching them at each other across the grounds.

By the time it got to the evening feast, Aurora was starving from all the running around, though clearly not as hungry as Crabbe and Goyle, who stayed far longer than she and Draco did. It felt like they’d been waiting for ages in the common room, and though Aurora was quite content curled up reading before the fireplace, Draco was getting agitated.

“Where are those two?” Draco asked haughtily. “Probably still pigging out in the Great Hall.”

“Probably,” Aurora agreed, flicking through the Christmas Carol book Gwen had given her. “They’ll be down soon enough.”

“Hmph.” Draco scowled. “What is that you’re reading anyway?”

“Some Muggle book. Gwendolyn gave me it.”

“Let me see here,” Draco said, grinning as he learnt over towards her. “What sort of rubbish does it say?”

“It’s quite decent, actually,” Aurora told him, holding the book defensively. “There are ghosts, and they’re very realistic. I think Charles Dickens might have been a wizard, or at least a Squib, and his prose is excellent.”

“Well,” Draco muttered, sitting back down. “I expect it still has nothing on our literature. What language is it in?”

“English, of course.”

Draco sniffed. “Of course.” Aurora rolled her eyes and continued reading. Let him judge this book if he wanted; she was rather enjoying it, and it had been a thoughtful gift from her friend. “Come on,” he said after a few minutes, “we’re going to find Crabbe and Goyle.”

“We?”

“Oh, come on, Aurora! You can’t spend Christmas reading!”

She huffed, but set the book down. “Fine. I’ll come with you to find the boys. But I fully intend on reading when I get back.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “You’re turning into a right swot, you know,” he told her as they made their way out of the dungeons. “You might as well be Granger.”

“Urgh.” Aurora pulled a face at him. “Don’t say that. I’m disgusted.”

He laughed, and they hurried upstairs together, striding forward. “There they are,” Draco said as they arrived near Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. “Who are they with? A Weasley?”

“Percy,” Aurora supplied. “The one who’s a Prefect.”

“Oh.” Draco wrinkled his nose. “I know him.” He raised his voice. “Crabbe! Goyle! Where have you two been? Pigging out in the Great Hall all this time!”

Crabbe and Goyle looked rather like they’d been caught out; Crabbe, Aurora noticed, was wearing a pair of round glasses that she had never seen him wear before. “Oh, uh.”

“Oh, come on, we’ve got something really funny to show you.”

“We have?” Aurora asked, and Draco nodded sharply, before turning his eyes onto the Prefect Weasley.

“And what’re you doing down here, Weasley?” Aurora rolled her eyes. Draco didn’t seem to give it a rest even on Christmas.

“I am a Prefect,” Prefect Weasley said stiffly. “I may go where I like. You, however...”

“Come on, Draco,” Aurora said, tugging his sleeve. “Let’s go back to the common room. Crabbe, Goyle?”

Draco sniffed. “Crabbe, are you wearing glasses?”

“Oh.” Crabbe’s eyes widened and he pulled them off too quickly. It was suspicious. “Uh, reading.”

“Reading?” Aurora asked dubiously. Those looked an awful lot like Potter’s glasses, come to think of it.

Draco frowned. “I didn’t know you could read.”

“Back to your common rooms, the four of you,” Prefect Weasley told them sharply, before Draco could notice the unfamiliar guilty look on Crabbe’s face.

“Come on,” Aurora said, tugging him along, and the boys followed. With a look over her shoulder, she realised how stiff the pair of them looked, like they were trying to figure out how their limbs moved. They were walking like they were acting. It was very strange.

“That Peter Weasley,” Draco started.

“Percy,” Goyle corrected. Aurora frowned at him; he barely even knew Gwendolyn’s name. Crabbe stepped unsubtly on his foot.

“Yes, whatever his name is. I’ve noticed him sneaking around an awful lot recently, and I know exactly what he’s up to. I bet he thinks he’s going to find the Heir of Slytherin single-handed.” He gave a short laugh and Aurora shook her head, grinning.

“Oh, I don’t know, at least he’s doing something.”

Draco snorted. “Yes, very uneffectively. He isn’t going to find them, is he? What’s the new password again?”

“Pureblood,” Aurora said dully. She didn’t like this one, and Gwendolyn had started a petition to Snape which had so far gained only five signatures.

“Oh, yeah,” Draco said, grinning as the wall swung open and the swept inside. “I’ll go and fetch it now, you’ll like this. Father’s just sent it to me.”

Aurora sat down as Draco hurried off into the boys’ dormitories. Crabbe and Goyle were both acting very odd, as though they were uncomfortable in their high backed chairs. They kept looking at each significantly, and then back at Aurora. “What?” she asked brittly, catching them at it. “Have I got something on my face?”

“No,” Crabbe said quickly.

“Well then why are you looking at me like that?”

“No - nothing,” Crabbe said. She narrowed her eyes at him. Something was strange here, but she didn’t have the time to mention it, as Draco was hurrying back to them, smirking.

He thrust what looked like a newspaper clipping under Crabbe’s nose and went back to sit by Aurora on the sofa, propping his legs up on her knees. “Get off,” she muttered fondly, shoving him away with a smile.

“You’re killing me, Aurora,” he teased with a grin, and she aimed a light kick for his shin. “Ow!”

“That’s what you get,” she said breezily, grinning. She nodded to Crabbe and Goyle. “What’s that?”

“From the Daily Prophet; Father sent it. Arthur Weasley’s been fined fifty galleons for that flying car of his.”

“Did they ever find the car?” Aurora asked, and Draco shook his head.  
“No. Suspect it’s gone mad and started terrorising first years.”

Aurora grinned at the thought of Flora or Hestia Carrow coming face to face with a feral car, but Crabbe and Goyle remained unamused.  
“What?” Draco asked them both sharply, upon realising neither had laughed. “Isn’t it funny?”

“Ha-ha,” Crabbe said, very unconvincing. Aurora knew him. She knew he would find it a lot funnier than that.

“That Arthur Weasley loves his Muggles doesn’t he? Perhaps he should snap his wand and join them.” She kept quiet, and turned to her book instead, though she still kept an eye on Crabbe and Goyle.

He spoke over her. “I’m surprised the Daily Prophet hadn’t reported all of these attacks yet. I bet Dumbledore’s trying to hush it all up. Father always said Dumbledore was the worst thing to happen to this school. And what’s wrong with you two?”

“Stomach ache,” Goyle said, grunting. He looked perfectly fine for someone with a stomach ache.

Draco scoffed. “Eaten too much at the feast again, I imagine. I expect Dumbledore’s be getting the sack soon, don’t you, Aurora?”

“If this keeps up,” she said mildly, “then I suppose they must, though I can’t think who they would replace him with.” After all, who could do a better job than Dumbledore? He’d been Headmaster so long it was unimaginable that someone else could take over. “McGonagall, perhaps.”

“Oh, I think she loves the Muggle borns even more than he does! Have you seen the way she congratulated Granger in class, and she never does the same for us.”

“I do have to wonder how Granger did so much better than I did in that Transfiguration exam. We’re equal at best.”

“Exactly! It’s most unjust. I don’t see why she loves them so much, or any of her precious Gryffindors.” He scoffed. “Saint Potter.”

“Twenty points for breathing, Potter,” Aurora said in an imitation of McGonagall. “Another ten for showing up, Granger! Fifty just because you’re ginger, Weasley!” Draco laughed loudly. Crabbe and Goyle, she noticed, did not. Her laughter died away as she glanced between the pair of them, a nervous feeling in her stomach.

Draco didn’t seem to have noticed anything amiss, but both boys had clenched their fists, and though their faces were on the surface smooth, there was some concealed anger there. What did Crabbe and Goyle have to be angry about?

“Ah, Saint Potter, always running about with that Granger girl. And people think he’s Slytherin’s Heir!” Aurora laughed forcedly. She caught Crabbe and Goyle staring at her and looked away immediately, feeling a great sense of unease. Something was definitely wrong here. “I wish I knew who it was,” Draco said. “Then I could help him.”

“You must have some idea of who’s behind it,” Crabbe said, leaning forward eagerly, and Aurora stared at him. He knew as much as anyone - which was, to say, nothing.

“I’ve told you already, Goyle, I’ve no idea,” Draco snapped.

Goyle turned to Aurora, who looked at him assessingly. “Well, I don’t know what you expect me to say, Gregory. I’ve already told you everything, haven’t I?”

Crabbe looked pleased by this tidbit. Aurora looked at him assessingly. “I forgot,” Goyle said stupidly after a moment.

Aurora raised her eyebrows. This didn’t seem like Crabbe and Goyle. They both knew better than to ask her to repeat herself, and rarely spoke to her so much anyway. “And why should I tell you again? Perhaps you’ll forget to keep it secret.”

Draco was looking between them like he was trying to draw a line and failing to make the connection. “I just find it incredibly frustrating,” he said, breaking between them. “Father won’t tell me anything about the last time the chamber was opened. Of course, fifty years was before his time, but he knows all about it and you’d think he’d at least tell me. Hasn’t that Andromeda you live with said anything?”

“Your Aunt Andromeda,” Aurora said deliberately, much to Draco’s displeasure, “either doesn’t know or she wouldn’t tell me anyway. I haven’t mentioned it, you know that.”

“Of course not.” Draco scoffed. “Because her husband’s a-“

“Very nice man,” Aurora said tightly, looking at Draco intently.

Crabbe and Goyle looked thoroughly confused.

“But all I know is, last time, someone died. As for me, I’d like it to be Granger!”

“Draco!” Aurora said sharply. A couple of the older students looked over at her. “Now, really, she’s hardly the worst of the lot.” Crabbe and Goyle looked far too interested in this conversation.

“You only say that because you’re a swot yourself.”

“Well, personally, I’d rather no one died, don’t you?” She gave him a very hard look, and Draco sighed.

“Well, yes, of course, but if it had to be anyone-“

“No wonder your father never tells you anything,” Aurora said, and Draco glared at her. “You’d go tearing off trying to find the Heir yourself if you knew who it was.”

“Like you did with that Philosopher’s Stone.”

“That was an entirely different situation, Draco, so don’t try and compare it,” she told him crisply.

“Hang on,” Goyle said slowly. “What about the Heir?”

Both of them stared at him. It wasn’t very much like Goyle to steer the conversation, especially when Draco and Aurora were arguing with each other. Usually no one dared to try and get in the middle of that. “What about him, Goyle?” Draco asked sharply.

“Well, the person who opened it last time, were they caught?”

Aurora scoffed. “Obviously, Goyle.”

“They were expelled,” Draco added. “Father told me. They’re probably still rotting in Azkaban.”

Aurora felt heat rush to her cheeks at the mention of it.

“Azkaban?” Goyle asked, sounding confused.

“Yes, Azkaban. The wizard prison?” Goyle didn’t seem to catch on at all, not that Aurora wanted him to. “Where Aurora’s Dad-“

“Draco!” She slapped him on the arm for that one. “Shut. Up.”

“Sorry, Aurora,” he muttered, and he did look somewhat abashed. “But Goyle needs all the clues he can get. If he were any slower, you’d be going backwards.” He shifted in his chair. “Father told me to keep my nose down.”

“As you should.”

“Let the Heir of Slytherin get on with it. He says this school needs ridding of all the Mudbloods. I’m not to get mixed up in it. He has enough on his plate what with the Ministry; you know they raided our Manor last week?” Goyle didn’t look very concerned, though it seemed he was trying to appear as such.

“Yeah. They didn’t find anything of course. Father’s got some very valuable Dark Arts stuff, some even more than what Aurora has. But luckily we’ve got that secret chamber under the drawing room floor-“

“Oho!” Crabbe said suddenly.

Aurora stared at him, as did Draco and Goyle. Crabbe blushed, and as she looked at him, Aurora could have sworn his hair took on a reddish tinge. No. There weren’t any Metamorphmagi in the school; Dora had said they were very rare and well documented. But his nose was lengthening too, and while Draco had looked away disinterestedly, Aurora found herself staring as both boys’ face changed and melted into ones of horror. Those gits.

They jumped to their feet. “Medicine for my stomach,” grunted Crabbe.

Both of them sprinted the length of the common room, practically hurling themselves into the corridor. Aurora stood up. “I’m going after them,” she said quickly. The pricks. She couldn’t believe this! “There’s no way they’ll find the Hospital Wing on their own.”

She hurried out after them, sprinting up the stone dungeon passage and up the stairs into the entrance hall. Both of them were shrinking, Goyle’s hair thickening and turning a darker shade, Crabbe’s bursting into distinctive Weasley ginger. Aurora was glad she was a fast runner; she grabbed them both just as they were about to run up the stairs, and she hauled them back into a small alcove, glaring furiously. Having realised who was holding them, both boys - Potter and Weasley - went very pale.

“Oh,” Weasley said, trying to be innocently cheerful. His acting wasn’t very good. “Black. Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas? Merry Christmas? You gits, what have you done to Vincent and Greg?”

“N-nothing!”

“Don’t lie! I basically saw you transform back!”

“We didn’t do anything!”

Aurora stamped down on Potter’s foot and he yelped. “Ouch! What’d you do that-“

“What were you doing there? Tell me, hm? Spying on us? Getting information out of Draco? Out of me?” She narrowed her eyes. “You’re not as good at acting as you think you are, you know. I can see right through you. Saint Potter indeed. Impersonation is against the school rules, and seeing as neither of you are Metamorphmagi, you’ve definitely gone against the rules to do this.” She took out her wand and pointed it at Potter. “You are to tell no one what Draco just told you. Understand?”

“And what did he tell us?” Weasley asked, voice strained. “We know one of you must be behind the attacks!”

“So that’s what this is about, is it?” She looked between them in disgust. “And you targeted me, naturally? Didn’t you?” She sneered. “You’re pathetic, both of you. There’s more chance of Potter being the Heir than there is of me. He’s the Parselmouth here.”

Potter paled. “That’s not - I didn’t!”

“I don’t care, Potter.” She let them both go. “I saved your hides last year, I’m not going to do it again. But I swear, if either of you repeat what just happened, anything about me or Draco, or our families... I’ll make sure you’re properly punished for breaking the rules this time, even if I have to do it myself.”

Both boys were pale but relieved as they ran off up the stairs and out of sight. Aurora swore to herself that if she got even the faintest inkling that they’d blabbed, she’d tell Snape and Dumbledore immediately. Flying a car to school was one thing, but this would tip them over the edge into expulsion. And they deserved it, she told herself as she went bitterly back to the common room. For being stupid, interfering, slimy gits.

“What was that about?” Draco asked as she went back over to him, taking her book.

“Don’t know. I lost them, but I’m sure they’ll show up again at some point. I’m tired now though, I’ll turn in early.”

“Aurora, really?”

“I’ll see you in the morning,” she said firmly, and went to bed wondering who was really behind these attacks, if even Potter had no clue. She wanted to know what they’d done, too, to turn into Crabbe and Goyle. Human transfiguration was highly advanced. Even the thought of Granger managing it stretched the imagination; Potter and Weasley had no chance. Still she had to wonder.

The idea of it, too, was rather horrid. To take on someone else’s identity, most likely without their knowledge, really didn’t sit right with her. But wasn’t that what Dora did, as a Metamorphmagus? No, she reasoned. Dora just changed her appearance, she didn’t pretend to be anyone or try to manipulate their friends. She rolled over in bed, thinking. The more she thought about it, the more it bothered her. They couldn’t get away with it. Even if she’d made a deal with them, she was determined that she would get some form of revenge upon them. She hadn’t the faintest idea how - she didn’t intend to do the same, that was for certain - but that could be a matter for another day. Today, she was happy to sleep and have a long lie in tomorrow - it was the Christmas holidays, after all.

Granger wasn’t in the library on Boxing Day, nor was she at any of the meals. The next two days were the same, and Aurora came to the conclusion that she must be in the Hospital Wing. That made it a possibility that she was ill as a result of whatever means Potter and Weasley had used to transform themselves into Crabbe and Goyle - who had returned to the common room that night very bewildered, according to Draco, and without memory of anything that had happened after the feast that night. So the day before New Year’s Eve, Aurora decided to feign a little stomach ache and go to Madam Pomfrey; she was already having cramps, and so convincing the nurse that she just needed a bit of pain reductor potion was enough to allow her to be let in and have a subtle nose around while Pomfrey fetched a potion.

There were curtains drawn around all the beds. Three of them she thought must be for the Petrified victims. She did not want to stumble in on them by accident, and wondered where to look. Then Granger coughed, loudly and throatily, like coughing up a hairball. She hid a smile and walked quietly to that bed, before hazarding a peek through a small gap in the curtains.

Hermione Granger... Looked like a cat. Aurora tried not to giggle as she withdrew quickly, before Granger could see her. A cat! How had she turned herself into a cat? It would be quite rare for Granger to be the one to mess up rather than Potter or Weasley, as she consistently got higher marks in Transfiguration - and everything else - than they did. Whatever method they used couldn’t have been down to skill alone then, there had to have been a variable risk factor, something she wouldn’t have picked up on. Something very, very minor that the boys got right and she didn’t.

Aurora couldn’t think further, as Madam Pomfrey handed her a small bottle of rather bland tasting potion to drink. She screwed her nose up as she did so; despite being liquid it felt rather dry and had a horrid textur which seemed terrible enough to even give it a nasty flavour. “Yes, yes, I know, Miss Black,” Pomfrey said. “Have a glass of water to chase it down with. I trust you can make it to the Slytherin Common Room alright?”

“Oh, yes,” she said, taking a sip. “I usually get over cramps quickly enough once I’ve had a potion, but they can be awful at times. I’m sure I’ll be alright now - thank you awfully.”

“And you’re well-stocked for sanitation?”

Aurora blushed bright red. “Yep, I am! Thanks again, Madam Pomfrey!” She scurried out of the Hospital Wing, desperate to avoid a conversation of that nature going any further than it needed to for her aims.

“Where’ve you been?” Draco asked when she returned.

“Hospital Wing. Sore stomach.” She considered telling Draco about Granger’s condition but decided against it; she wasn’t quite that cruel.

“Did you get a look at Granger?”

“Pomfrey’s put curtains around her bed. I’m sure she’s come out something awful.”

“I’d hoped she’d have been Petrified.”

She glared at him. “That isn’t funny, Draco. But I need your help anyway.”

“Really?”

“Shut up, alright. D’you any spells for human Transfiguration that could feasibly go wrong by minor error and cause someone to turn into a cat?”

He stared at her. “What... exactly are you trying to do?”

“Nothing! Nothing, I’m just... Curious. Something I read in a book, about someone who - turned into a cat, but they didn’t mean to, but it didn’t say what they’d done to try and Transfigure themselves, the book was quite horrible written it didn’t explain much of anything, it was rather reminiscent of Lockhart, but anyway.” She took a breath. “What do you think?”

Draco shrugged. “I don’t know. What were they trying to Transfigure themselves into in the first place?”

“Another person?”

“Another person? Well, that’s really hard, isn’t it? It’s one thing to change yourself, like your hair or eyes, but another to change yourself into a whole person.” He sat back. “That’s the sort of complicated thing you’d need a potion for.”

Her eyes widened. When they had broken into Snape’s supply cupboard all those weeks ago - that was why, that was what they were stealing the ingredients for! A potion to turn them into someone else, that had somehow gone wrong and turned Granger into a cat. “Draco, I might never admit it again, but you’re so clever.”

He preened. “Thank you, Au- where are you going?”

“Library,” she said quickly, already heading out of the common room.

They wanted a potion to get information out of her, and inhabit Crabbe and Goyle? Fine. She wouldn’t tell. But she, for all Snape hated to admit it, was a very good brewer. Better than Granger. She could make a potion too, one just slightly poisonous enough to give someone a bad stomach or headache. And she wouldn’t mess up. At least if she did, she wouldn’t be the one turning into a cat.


	29. Valentines

When the rest of the students returned to school, the news of Granger’s transformation spread very quickly. Madam Pomfrey wasn’t letting anyone near enough to see her, leading to rumours that she had been the latest victim of the Heir of Slytherin. Now almost everyone seemed to be avoiding Aurora outside of the Slytherin common room - and even then she could tell there was a divide between those who believed she was the Heir and wanted to stick on her side, those who believed it and wanted to distance themselves from the reaches of her reputation, and those who didn’t believe it at all. She was glad Gwen seemed to fall into the last category, as did Robin Oliphant. “You’ve always got your nose in a book,” he told her a couple of days into term, when she was sat with him and Gwen. “I just don’t think you’d find the time.”

“Good to know you have such high faith in my morals,” she said clippedly.

“That as well,” he said. “What are you reading all the time anyway?”

“De-enchanting Dark Objects,” she said, showing the book’s spine. “There’s a couple of things came into my possession from my family. Lovely jewellery, but I don’t want to get cursed.”

“Your family curses jewellery?”

“Cursed,” she corrected, and he winced. “Don’t look like that.”

“Like what?”

“Apologetic,” Gwen supplied. “She hates it.”

“But - why would they curse jewellery?”

She shrugged. “Why would they curse anything? I’m hoping they haven’t cursed the jewellery - I’ve touched it and nothing’s happened so I can’t see that wearing it would make a difference - but there are definitely enchantments. And the jewellery’s really nice, so I want to be able to wear it.”

“Even if it’s cursed?” Robin asked, seeming perplexed.

“I’m going to undo the curse first, genius,” Aurora snapped. Gwen snickered.

But there was one thing that she was researching which she did not want to tell anyone else about. She read up on mild poisons covered in relatively inconspicuous Potions textbooks. Things to cause mild headaches, stomach aches, and general inconveniences that would leave a victim feeling like crap but otherwise would not do any lasting harm. These poisons also would not raise very much suspicion. Aurora did not need to be accused of anything else, thank you very much.

There was one poison she decided upon. Well, two, technically, but from research she was fairly certain they could blend together. A Dizziness Draught blended with a Fatigue Potion - it would induce light-headedness, fatigue, and a headache for around a day or so before wearing off. She did consider a laxative potion, but there was no telling how fast-acting it might be and it was also a rather disgusting idea, so she settled on dizziness and fatigue. They also weren’t technically classed as poisons, which meant she was less likely to get caught out or into trouble. Both were easy enough to brew - the trick would be to get it into Potter and Weasley’s food or drink without anyone noticing.

“Kreacher!” she called in her empty room one night in January.

There was a loud crack and her house elf appeared, rather dirty and wearing the same tablecloth she always remembered him wearing. She wrinkled her nose as he bent into a low bow, long nose scraping the floor. “Mistress has called for Kreacher,” he muttered. “Mistress does not call Kreacher often - no, no Kreacher has remained at home, as old Mistress told him...”

“Stand up please, Kreacher,” Aurora said awkwardly, and was a little surprised by how quickly he did so. But she supposed she was his mistress now, wasn’t she. “Kreacher, do you know where the Hogwarts kitchens are?”

Kreacher nodded. “Kreacher knows... oh yes, many house elves are there... those not loyal to a family, pledged to their Dumbledore, Mistress never liked Dumbledore, lover of blood traitors and half-breeds and-“

“That’s quite enough, Kreacher,” Aurora said tightly. “Tell me how to get into the kitchen.”

“Kreacher Apparated.”

She sighed. “Tell me how I could get into the kitchen, Kreacher.”

She could have sworn he was smirking, his old face twisted by the action. “There is a portrait, down the stairs on the West end of the castle... A fruit bowl. Mistress must tickle the pear.”

“Tickle the pear. That’s it?” Kreacher nodded. That was one thing down, but she still didn’t want the house elves to know she was there - just in case anybody did ask. “Kreacher, you will not tell anyone any of the details discussed in this conversation.”

“Kreacher understands, Mistress,” he said in a slight snarl. “Kreacher keeps his family’s secrets.”

“Kreacher, how would I be able to determine who each plate would reach?”

“There is little way to know, Mistress,” Kreacher said. “If Kreacher knew, Kreacher would go amongst the kitchens and spit in the food of-“

“Kreacher,” she said, and he broke off abruptly. “Don’t spit in anybody’s food. That’s disgusting.”

“Of course, Mistress,” he muttered, bowing again. Aurora shifted awkwardly. Kreacher was definitely weirder now than he had been when she was young. “Kreacher will obey Mistress.”

There might not be any way to ensure the potions got to Potter and Weasley at a meal time. But that wasn’t the only time they drank. “Kreacher, I would like you to follow Harry Potter and Ron Weasley.”

His eyes snapped up and widened. “The blood traitor brat? The boy who defeated the Dark Lord?”

She nodded. “You are not to be seen by anyone. You are not to inform anyone that you are doing this. You will tell me what they drink and eat regularly outside of meal times, and you will tell me when and how I might access this food and drink. Understand?”

Kreacher stared at her. “What is Mistress planning, Kreacher wonders?”

“Kreacher will not tell anyone what Mistress has asked of him.”

Kreacher nodded and sank into a bow again. “Yes Mistress, young Mistress. Kreacher will follow the blood traitor brats.”

“Thank you, Kreacher,” she said. “And please have a bath.”

He looked at her, down at himself, then back at her. “Yes, Mistress,” he muttered reluctantly. “Old Mistress never told Kreacher to bathe, Kreacher kept everything clean, kept that Black house clean but now it is filthy, filthy like the blood traitor’s blood.”

Aurora swallowed. “Go, Kreacher.”

With another crack, he vanished, and just in time, as Gwen opened the door and frowned. “Who were you talking to?”

“Oh, just myself,” Aurora said cheerfully. Gwen narrowed her eyes. “Actually, it was the monstrous beast I keep in a secret chamber beneath the school. He’s been feeling a bit lonely.”

“That isn’t actually funny,” Gwen said seriously. “The Heir’s still on the loose.”

“I know, I know,” Aurora muttered, waving a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry about it, I’m not stupid enough to say something like that in front of other people,” Aurora told her with a grin, though Gwen didn’t look like she was abated by this. “I know you believe me.”

“You still shouldn’t joke about it.” Gwen sighed, sitting down on her bed. Stella, who had been dozing contentedly during the conversation with Kreacher, now leapt to her feet and ran over to Gwen, almost begging for scratches. Aurora rolled her eyes fondly. “Really, though, who were you talking to?”

“Just myself,” she lied with a shrug. “I’m trying to figure out this ring. It’s like there’s something stuck in the stone, I just don’t know what.”

The smoke was still swirling in the ring as Aurora pointed to the jewellery box. Gwen wrinkled her nose. “Well, I don’t know much about smoky rings. I just think it looks cool.”

“It’s definitely got some sort of enchantment,” Aurora said. “Can’t you hear it whispering?”

Thy both went silent. Gwen frowned and held the ring to her ear. “No,” she said, after a long moment, and held it out to Aurora. She took it - it was definitely whispering.

“Can’t you?”

Gwen shook her head. “It’s a family ring, right? Maybe it only talks to family members.”

“Maybe,” Aurora said, running her thumb over the cold silver engravings on the ring band. “That might be it.”

It was definitely whispering, though. She couldn’t make out any of the words, but they were there, spoken in quiet and hallowed reverence under the dark reflections of the stone. It only made her more curious.

Kreacher returned to give Aurora his report at the beginning of February, shortly after Granger returned to classes. “The Potter boy drinks at meals, Mistress,” he told her. “His friend, Weasley, the blood traitor’s son eats a lot.”

“What do they eat?”

“Chocolate frogs, Mistress... Weasley boy collects the cards.”

A thought struck Aurora. Valentine’s Day was just under a fortnight away. She grinned. “Thank you, Kreacher. You may return to Grimmauld Place. And remember, do not tell anyone about this.”

Kreacher scraped into a low bow. “Mistress,” he said, and then Disapparated with a loud crack. Aurora sat back on her bed, beaming. She still had a small stack of unopened chocolate frogs, and the two potions she had thought of both could, in theory, be applied to solid foods. All she had to do was brew the potions, perhaps add some non-influential dyes - that was to say, dyes that wouldn’t change the effects of the potion itself - lace the chocolate frogs with said potions, and do a good enough job of covering up her tampering that Potter would accept it as an anonymous Valentine’s Day gift. She grinned as Gwen entered, immediately suspicious.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing,” Aurora said, quite cheerfully. “I’ve just had a breakthrough on my Potions essay is all.”

Gwen raised her eyebrows. “You aren’t going to tell me, are you?”

“Maybe.” She shrugged. “In time.”

The night before Valentine’s Day, Aurora snuck out to give a small box of five chocolate frogs to one of the school owls to take to Potter’s dormitory in the morning. No one saw her, she was sure, and so a school owl delivery couldn’t possibly be traced back to her.

She slept soundly through the night, and woke excited about what she was sure was going to be a success.

When she went down to the Great Hall for breakfast in the morning, she was shocked by the... Pinkness of it all. Pink flowers on the walls, pink confetti falling from the ceiling, it even looked like the food had been dyed pink. “What happened in here?” she asked Draco, who looked quite appalled.

Pansy giggled, exchanging excited looks with Lucille. “It’s Valentine’s Day, remember? Clearly the teachers thought we should celebrate!”

“It’s very pink,” Draco said faintly. “And girly.”

“It’s lovely,” Pansy sighed. “Haven’t either of you gotten Valentines?”

“No,” Aurora said. Should she have? She hadn’t expected to get any. “Have you?”

“I got three.”

“No you did not,” Daphne said, staring. “From who?”

“Well, I don’t know,” Pansy said, appearing rather smug. “They’re meant to be secret, aren’t they? Did none of you get Valentines?”

“I got two,” Daphne mumbled, and Aurora noticed she looked rather annoyed that Pansy got more than she did. “Lucille only got one.”

“I didn’t get any,” Millicent said dejectedly. She looked a little worried about this. “How come I didn’t get any?”

“Well, I didn’t get any either,” Aurora said breezily, linking her arm through Millicent’s. “And it’s only morning. Besides, Valentines don’t mean much at our age, do they? I’d much rather someone told me to my face that they fancied me.”

With that, she strode confidently into the Great Hall and got Millicent to sit down next to her at the table. She watched the Gryffindor Table carefully for signs of Potter and Weasley entering, and when they did so, kept her eyes out for any signs of discomfort. There were none, but that didn’t worry her too much. The potions weren’t meant to work immediately, and besides, they might not have eaten the chocolate yet.

“You’re looking awfully interested in the Gryffindor Table,” Daphne whispered to Aurora, smirking. “Has someone caught your eye?”

“Oh, I’m just wondering if Granger thinks she’s going to get a Valentine’s gift,” she said, grinning when the other girls laughed.

“Oh, absolutely not! If Aurora doesn’t, Granger has no chance!” For that, Aurora gave Pansy a very dark glare. “Oh, don’t look like that Aurora, you will get a card from someone, I’m sure. And I thought you said it didn’t matter?”

“It doesn’t,” she said sweetly. “I’m just wondering who sent you cards, Pansy. I can’t come up with many names.”

Pansy pursed her lips tightly, and muttered, “Shut up, Aurora.”

Aurora leaned back happily in her seat, smirking as she tucked into her breakfast. Next to Pansy, Draco hid his smirk, and the only one who didn’t look amused was Pansy. Even Lucille smiled a little bit. “Attention!” It was Lockhart’s voice that called over the hall; he was wearing lurid pink robes that seized both Aurora and Daphne with uncontrollable giggles. “Happy Valentine’s Day! And may I take the time to thank all the forty six students who have sent me Valentine’s cards!” Aurora stared. Forty six? Really?

“That’s a horrifying thought,” Daphne whispered.

“Yes, I have taken the liberty of arranging this little celebration for you all, now that all the danger is over!” Aurora stared at him. Over? They had no proof of that. The Heir hadn’t been caught, and there were still multiple Petrified victims in the Hospital Wing. This man was an idiot, and even her fellow Slytherins were whispering about it. “And it doesn’t end here!”

He clapped his hands together and the doors to the Great Hall swung open again. A parade of very grumpy looking dwarves came into the hall, dressed as little cupids. “That’s an even more horrifying sight,” Aurora whispered back to Daphne, mouth hanging open as the dwarves came grudgingly down the aisles.

“They look way too ugly for Valentine’s day,” Millicent said bluntly, prompting Daphne to laugh loudly. One of the dwarves heard, and glared maliciously in a most un-angelic way. Aurora giggled into the palm of her hand.

“My friendly, card-carrying cupids!” They did not look friendly at all. “They will be roving around the school today giving out Valentines!” Any hope Aurora had had of possibly receiving a Valentine quickly disappeared. She now could not think of anything worse than getting a Valentine from one of those dwarves. “And the spirit of the day doesn’t end there! I’m sure all my colleagues want to join in the occasion! Why not ask Professor Snape how to whip up a Love Potion?” Aurora couldn’t help herself from laughing; she had to bend over her cereal, certain she could feel Snape glaring at her. She imagined his face if one of them asked about Love Potions and started giggling harder than she had in quite some time. “And while we’re at it, Professor Flitwick knows more about Entrancing Enchantments than anyone I’ve ever met, the sly old dog!”

This was enough to set Millicent off too. Her shoulder bumped into Aurora’s as she tried to stop herself laughing. By the time they had to set off for classes, Aurora was still teetering on the verge of giggles, while Pansy and Lucille tried to appear dignified about the occasion, Daphne was talking loudly about how she expected many more Valentine’s to arrive for her, and Millicent wondered aloud whether one of the dwarves had bitten Lockhart when he tried to put wings on them. “I would have,” she said, breaking Daphne from her speech and sending her and Aurora into giggles again.

To her horror, though, she did end up receiving one Valentine. A dwarf caught up to her when she was on her way to Defense Against the Dark Arts with Gryffindor, which was the worst possible time for it to happen. “What?” she asked, cheeks already burning in embarrassment.

“I have a Valentine for Aurora Black.”

“Brilliant.”

“It’s written down that it’s a declaration of love.”

“Even better.” If she ever found out who was behind this, she would poison them. Maybe she’d poison Lockhart too while she was at it. She could put it in his stupid hair dye. “Let’s hear it.”

A small crowd of the Gryffindors had arrived. She could see Potter laughing, and tried very hard to resist the urge to hex someone. Neville looked rather fretful.

“Aurora Black, Aurora Black,

“Like the lights in the sky.

“And whatever they say, I don’t care,

“You never fail to catch my eye.”

The dwarf looked at her assessingly, grunted, and then stomped off, leaving Aurora wit her cheeks blazing. “That didn’t even flow well,” she protested, as the rest of her class fell about laughing. “Whoever did this needs a poetry lesson, and quickly! And what does that mean, whatever they say? What do they say! That’s not even complimentary!”

“At least it was original! They even put your name in it!”

“I’d rather they didn’t,” she said, crossing her arms furiously as they entered the classroom. “It would have been better if they were cliche and sweet, but that was just terrible! What absolute idiot thought that was going to woo me.”

“Always the critic,” Pansy said, smirking. “At least you got a Valentine.”

“Nice Valentine, Black,” Seamus Finnigan called out, and Aurora sent a book sailing towards his head. It narrowly missed, clipping Potter’s ear instead.

“Notice you didn’t get any, Finnigan!” she called back. “Though I suppose someone would have to be mad to send you a Valentine.”

“Oi,” Weasley said angrily. “That’s not on!”

“Shut it, Weasley,” Aurora snarled. “Focus on your own embarrassing love life - or lack of it.”

At that, Weasley went red, but they were saved from any further confrontation by the arrival of Lockhart, sweeping into the classroom in pink robes. He made Potter act the part of a banshee, which was highly amusing, and Aurora and Draco both found themselves near tears.

Potter hurried out the classroom as soon as he could, and Aurora went on at a slower pace with Pansy and the girls. They caught up to them on the stairs, where Potter had been caught by a dwarf of his own. He was looking highly embarrassed, and his bag had split, sending ink over all his books. Justice.

“Who’d be sending Potter a Valentine?” Aurora said loudly. Pansy laughed, and Draco sent her an appreciative look.

“Right,” the dwarf said loudly. It sat down on Potter’s ankles, stopping him from getting up. “Here is your singing Valentine.”

This should be good, Aurora thought. If she had to be humiliated, at least she hoped Potter could be humiliated more.

“His eyes are green as a fresh pickled toad,

“His hair is as dark as a blackboard.

“I wish he was mine, he’s really divine.

“The hero who conquered the Dark Lord.”

Aurora burst out laughing. “Points for form,” she said across the hall, smirking. “If not for taste.”

“Shut up, Black,” Potter muttered, as the dwarf left and let him gather his school things. “You probably sent yourself that poem.”

She laughed shrilly. “I’m insulted you think so lowly of my poetry abilities, Potter.”

“Off you go now,” said the Prefect Weasley, trying to usher the other students away. “Off you go to class, the bell rang five minutes ago.”

Sneering at Potter, Aurora was about to head to History with the girls when Draco called her name. “Look at this! Potter’s got a diary! What have you been writing, Potter?”

Aurora pressed her lips together. Potter kept a diary? Well, that would be interesting - she wondered if he wrote anything about his attempt to transform into Crabbe and Goyle? There could be a confession in there. “Give that back,” Potter said, sounding very serious. There must be some juicy secrets in there.

“I want to see what you’ve written first, Potter.”

“Hand it over, Malfoy,” Prefect Weasley said tensely. “Now, please.”

“When I’ve had a look,” Draco said, taunting Potter as he waved the diary in the air.

“I wonder whose eyes Potter’s been thinking of.”

“As a school Prefect-“

“Expelliarmus!” Potter yelled, and the diary went soaring out of Draco’s hand. Weasley caught it deftly, grinning.

“Harry!” the Prefect yelled. Granger wrung her hands nervously. “No magic outside the classroom! I’ll have to report this!”

“Let’s go,” Aurora muttered to the girls, sending one last sneer towards Potter. “I’ve seen enough of Potter embarrassing himself for one day; now it’s just painful.”

“Oh, sod off, Black!”

“I’m going,” she smirked, holding her hands up. “No need for bad language, Potter.”

She tossed her hair and turned around, just in time to hear Draco call, “I don’t think Potter liked your Valentine very much!”

Aurora froze momentarily, turning around. She only relaxed when she realised Draco hadn’t yelled it at her - of course he hadn’t, he didn’t know, nobody did - but after Ginny Weasley. She came out of her shock only just enough to reprimand him quietly and drag him along to History of Magic before someone could hex him. “You are so lucky you got away without a fight,” she informed him.

“You were laughing too!”

Well, she couldn’t deny that. She just grinned and went on her way, wondering how long it would be before Potter tucked ate his chocolate frogs.

The next day, Aurora kept a close watch on both Potter and Weasley. They grew gradually paler, and she heard Potter complaining of a headache to Granger, who fretted about his scar. “I’ve got a headache too, Mione,” Weasley told her in the corridor.

“You two are probably dehydrated. I keep telling you, you need to drink more water!”

Throughout the day, she kept hearing reports of their discontent, and was quietly delighted not just that they were discomforted - though seeing it did give her some satisfaction - she was pleased that it had worked. Even better was that they had both gone to Madam Pomfrey for Pepper-Up Potions and returned to Potions with steam pouring out of their ears. Weasley looked like his head was on fire, and Potter just looked silly. She and Draco had both been in peals of laughter, and even Snape seemed amused by their misfortune. Neville frowned at Aurora for laughing, but she just shook her head at him. “Lighten up,” she told him. “It’s funny.” And though for the next few days, as Potter and Weasley stopped feeling the effects of the potions, Aurora was nervous about being found out, it seemed she had gotten away with it. She couldn’t brag about it, most unfortunately, but that didn’t stop her from carrying a cheerful mood over the next few weeks.

The second match of Slytherin’s season - against Ravenclaw - had a low turnout, whether because it came right at the end of February or because the school students were nervous about the Heir. On multiple occasions, Aurora caught Kevin Entwhistle and Michael Corner scurrying out of her way in the corridor, and heard Padma Patil and Lisa Turpin whisper nervously to one another during class. At least, she thought, having her on the Slytherin Team might intimidate the Ravenclaws enough that they’d be put off their game.

“Good luck!” she called to her team as they bounced off to their positions, leaving her to sit nervously on the bench again. Only Draco responded, waving cheerfully before he took to his broom opposite the Ravenclaw’s Seeker. A pit of nerves grew in Aurora’s stomach. After their defeat by Gryffindor, they needed this win to get back up in the league standings and have a chance of winning the cup again.

Ravenclaw’s Team was relatively decent. They had a strong group of Chasers and their captain Davies was, while young, pretty determined about winning. Their issue was the Beaters. They seemed to be trying for aim and strategy over strength, and while Aurora didn’t have anything against trying to aim well, they kept taking too long to deliberate and only managing feeble, half-hearted hits that did them no good. At least Derrick and Bole made up their minds quickly, and usually managed to divert Chasers, helping Slytherin’s score tick over up to fifty to nil. Their Seeker was pretty weak too; a sixth year boy who flew aimlessly around the pitch, not even paying attention to Draco.

There was no need for the dirtier style of play they had employed against Gryffindor. Not only was their rivalry not as fierce, but they weren’t up against the same force. Ravenclaw excelled in play tactics, while Gryffindor favoured raw talent, intuition, and instinctual play. Slytherin juggled both, and adjusted its style to suit. That didn’t mean they couldn’t play dirty, though. Derrick sent a nasty Bludger at Roger Davies’ head, which he only narrowly ducked. Cho Chang, the Ravenclaw alternate, winced in sympathy on the other side of the pitch, and a moment later the score ticked to seventy-nil.

“Come on, boys!” Aurora yelled encouragingly from the sidelines, amidst the cheers of her housemates in the stands. “Keep it going!”

Draco shot her a grin as he passed, before flying off upwards in search of the Snitch again. Aurora waited with bated breath, watching the game closely. The Chasers passed between each other, but a Bludger made them scatter; the Quaffle dropped to Davies, he was soaring across the pitch, he was going to score! “No!” Aurora cried out, but it was too late, and Bletchley missed his save. “Damn it!” Seventy ten. Lee Jordan sounded entirely too pleased with himself.

“Get it together!” Flint yelled, but a few minutes later Bletchley had fumbled another save. A tactical hit from a Bludger got him in the head and he went down.

Aurora sprung to her feet as Madam Hooch blew the whistle for time out. She was going to be called into action, she knew it. Keeper wasn’t her best position, but any place on the pitch was good enough for her. “Come on, Miles,” Flint was saying, grunting as he hauled the Keeper back to his feet. “You can see? Move your fingers?” Bletchley nodded, blinking. “Good. He can play.”

“Wait,” Aurora said quickly, hurrying over. “He doesn’t have to. I’m alternate, remember, I can play.”

“I’m fine,” Bletchley said, a little slurred.

“No you’re not. Flint, I should play, I’m not injured.”

Flint huffed. “He can play. He’s more experienced than you - and, putting in an alternate now shows weakness.”

“So does having a Keeper who can’t keep his head on.”

“Watch it,” Bletchley said, trying to sound intimidating but failing.

Flint glared at her. “Go back to your bench, Black. We don’t need you.”

“But I’m the alternate! What’s the point of having me if you don’t use me?”

“GO!”

The look on his face was furious, just the same as Aurora’s as she stormed over to her bench. Bletchley did not look good when he was in the air. He let in another three goals, almost letting Ravenclaw take the lead, before Draco went into a deep dive, having spotted the Snitch.

A cheer went up from the stands and Aurora stood up, wringing her hands nervously as she watched. Draco was flying faster, and the Ravenclaw Seeker had only just caught on; but he was soaring towards Draco, and he was already closer to the ground, putting on the speed. Aurora held her breath, hardly daring to watch as Draco clasped his hand around the Snitch and pulled up, out of his dive to triumphant yells.

“Yes!” she screamed, punching the air as her team roared in triumph. “Yes, Draco!”

He beamed as he ran over to her. “I did it! I got it! I got the Snitch!”

Aurora tackled him in a tight hug as the rest of the team ran over after landing, thumping him on the back. “Good show, Malfoy!” Flint said, ruffling his hair. “Guess we’ll keep you on the team after all. Alright, boys, back to the changing rooms! Black, help the rest get the party together! We’re going to get back to the top of the league, just you wait!”

She couldn’t help the coil of frustration as her teammates went on without her, revelling in their victory. They wouldn’t even give her a chance. If Draco hadn’t caught the Snitch, Ravenclaw might have caught up with Bletchley injured like that. And she couldn’t even celebrate with them.

“I’m the only girl, too.” It was Cho Chang who spoke, standing a little ways behind Aurora. She turned around, quite startled. “They get on your nerves, don’t they?”

“They’re not so bad.”

Cho laughed. “They can be.” She shook her head. “They played well though. I’m going to be Seeker next year whether they like it or not.”

Aurora grinned at her determination. “Well, I don’t know about Seeker,” she said, thinking of Draco. “But I’ll be on the team, one way or another.”

Cho grinned warmly. “I look forward to it.”

“Chang!” Roger Davies bellowed. “Over here, team meeting, now!”

“See you later, Black.”

“Yeah,” Aurora said, smile slightly less bitter. “See you.”

She went back to the common room alone, still thinking. If only they’d give her a chance. Yes, she was an alternate, but she had a point. And she knew that if it hadn’t been for Draco, she wouldn’t have even been considered but she wanted so desperately to prove that she was just as good. No. That she was better. The best. And one way or another, no matter how long it took, she was determined that she would.


	30. Kreacher’s Secret

With Potter and Weasley dealt with - for now, at least - Aurora could return her attentions to the pieces of jewellery which she had inherited. She was sure she must come close to a breakthrough soon, but she found nothing in the library to suggest why she could hear voices whispering from a ring. “It’s so frustrating,” she said to Daphne and Pansy, slamming her book closed. “There’s nothing in here! If we were only allowed in the Restricted Section - but even then, I’m sure Dumbledore’s removed everything of interest, or even remotely to do with the Dark Arts!” She huffed, catching Potter look at her. “What do you want?”

“What are you up to?” he asked her slowly.

“Nothing to do with you.” She looked him up and down, sneering. “Where are Weasley and Granger, Potter? Go and run along to them, rather than eavesdropping on innocent conversations. Though I know you do so enjoy intruding on people’s privacy.” At that, Potter looked furious, but he turned on his heel without another word, and Aurora sat back, quite satisfied.

“What does that mean?” Pansy asked, leaning closer. “Intruding on people’s privacy?”

“That’s between me and Potter,” Aurora told her. “Let us just say I’m holding something over him.”

Daphne smirked. “He looked like a deer in headlights.”

“He’s a Gryffindor,” Pansy said, very observantly. “They don’t know how to deal with proper threats.”

Aurora smirked. “That’s damn right.” She shook her head and got up. “I had better return these books before Madam Pince gets too upset with me. I’ll see if there’s anything more helpful in the family library, though I doubt it. Kreacher is not very good at book recommendations, though don’t tell him that.”

Pansy shuddered. “Don’t say his name, I’m always so worried you’re going to summon him.” When Daphne and Aurora laughed, she added indignantly, “He gives me the creeps!”

“He’s just a house elf, Pansy,” Daphne said. “What’s he going to do, mop the floor at you? He doesn’t even have a wand.”

“He is creepy!” Pansy insisted. “He is!”

Aurora just laughed, setting her books back on their respective shelves before returning to the common room with the girls. She hurried into her empty dormitory, and called on Kreacher again. He appeared with a loud crack and sank into a low bow, his nose scraping against the floor. “You don’t have to do that, you know,” she said awkwardly. “Not every time.” He was getting rather old, after all, and she worried about the state of his back. There didn’t seem to be many elf chiropractors in the world and she imagined that any that did exist would be ridiculously expensive.

“Kreacher must bow to his mistress,” Kreacher rasped. “Kreacher respects his family, yes he does, Kreacher is better than those other house elves, house elves that turn their backs, that spread rumours... Nasty house elves, unnatural little beasts.”

“Yes,” Aurora said loudly. “Even so. Kreacher, I would like you to retrieve books on binding enchantments. Specifically that which can be placed upon an object, like a ring. Can you do that for me, please?”

“Kreacher lives to serve the house of Black.” With another loud crack, he disappeared again, and Aurora sighed.

When, a few weeks later, he appeared in her room again, he frightened Gwen enough that she fell off her bed. “What is that?” she squawked.

“Kreacher serves the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black,” Kreacher said. He bowed a little, but not enough that his back was bent as it had been before. Then again, he was carrying a very large stack of books. “Who is that, Mistress?”

“This is Gwendolyn,” Aurora said evenly, as Gwen got awkwardly to her feet, with red cheeks. “She’s my friend.”

Kreacher bowed. “Mistress’s friend. Kreacher has books for his Mistress that she might find interesting reading. Kreacher thought they was most interesting, they was books that Master Regulus-“ He cut himself off as suddenly as if someone had cut the supply of air to his lungs.

“Kreacher?” Aurora said, quite alarmed by this reaction. “Kreacher, are you alright? Breathe, Kreacher! Breathe!”

Kreacher let out a breath and then babbled frantically, dropping the books in a heap on the floor. “Kreacher swore he would not tell, Kreacher must not tell any of the family, Kreacher almost broke his secrecy to Master Regulus, Kreacher has been a bad house-elf!” Then, to Aurora’s horror, he picked up the heaviest book and hit himself in the head with it.

“Kreacher, no!” she cried. “Kreacher, don’t hurt yourself! Stop it!”

“Master Regulus swore Kreacher not to tells the family!”

“It’s okay Kreacher, you didn’t tell me, you stopped yourself! Didn’t you?” She took the book off him and Kreacher threw himself onto the floor at her feet.

“Kreacher asks forgiveness, Mistress!”

“You’re forgiven, Kreacher, you’re forgiven! It’s okay!”

“Kreacher must not tell Master Regulus’s Secrets!”

“It’s alright, you didn’t! Kreacher, stand up.”

Kreacher stood to attention so abruptly it was jarring. His eyes were wide and tearful. “It’s alright, Kreacher. Don’t punish yourself, please. Now, what about these books?”

“Kreacher has dropped Mistress’s books!” He scrambled to collect them. “Kreacher is most clumsy, old Mistress would have been furious at Kreacher, the books might have been hurt!”

“There’s no harm done, Kreacher,” Aurora said, quite concerned by her house elf’s behaviour. It was clear that whatever secrets her Uncle Regulus had sworn him to, they were deep ones. “I’ll take the books now.”

“Thank you, Mistress,” Kreacher croaked. “Kreacher hopes he has chosen good books for Mistress.”

“I’m sure you have,” Aurora said encouragingly. “Thank you. You may go now.”

She could have sworn Kreacher smiled as he Disapparated. There was a moment of long silence before Gwen said, “What the actual hell was that all about?”

“He was just giving me some books,” Aurora told her cheerfully.

“But... Why?”

“He’s my house elf.”

“What is a house elf?”

“You know!” Aurora looked at her. “He does chores, works for my family. I inherited him last year. There’s loads of them that work in the school kitchens, though I haven’t met any.”

“He works for you?”

“Yeah. He’s looked after my family for generations. I don’t have much use for him at the moment, but I couldn’t think how he’d react if I gave him clothes.”

“Clothes?”

“Yes. If you give a house elf clothes, then it basically means they don’t work for you any more and you’ve laid them off. I don’t quite understand why, but that’s what it means.”

“So that’s why he looked like that?”

Aurora’s lips twitched in amusement. “Yes, unfortunately.”

Gwen frowned. “That’s so weird.”

Aurora laughed, setting the sizeable stack of books down on her bedside table. “I suppose house elves are rather funny things, but they can be sweet. Kreacher’s just lonely, but he’d hate working for anyone outside the family.” She glanced at Gwen, who still looked confused about the whole thing. “It’s one of the things you’ll get used to about our world.”

“It’s still freaking weird,” Gwen said.

With the threat posed by the Heir of Slytherin fading, there was less negative attention focused on Aurora nowadays. Her classmates started warming up to her again, and though she still saw little point in Lockhart’s classes, she was doing well in all her subjects, even Herbology. Professor Sprout said she just didn’t have a knack for other living things, but she could deal with the Mandrakes; they were growing up into teenagers now, and as such they had to be wrestled into their pots. Aurora was, it turned out, much better at wrestling plants than being delicate with them, even if she was not a fan of how much dirt they kicked up onto her face.

They were midway through March when Aurora finally had a true breakthrough with the necklace. She was sitting in the common room with Draco, Pansy, Blaise and Daphne around her, reading one of the books which Kreacher had brought. Her eyes skimmed a sentence and then her mind got stuck, as she looked back and read it again.

Metal-Locker spells act as a magical binding agent for metal-based items with curses. When combined, these multiply the original power of the spell on each particular item, so long as it is the same spell, and the focus of these enchantments are often held within a separate magical item used to lock the items together. These enchantments can be undone with a mix of counter-spells, however these must be done with both the curse and the Metal-Locker spell in mind. The specific counter-spell for a Metal-Locker is a De-Binding spell, and is done with the aim of separated the physical elements from each other and from their magical elements. The incantation for the De-Binding spell is separatum metallum.

Her mind reeled. This was the answer she was looking for. She’d thought for some time the necklace might hold a curse, and if so it seemed that the curse was contained in the key, keeping the necklaces together. In that case she was very glad that she’d been so careful with her manual attempts to unlock the key. “What are you so pleased about?” Draco asked as she got to her feet, grinning giddily.

“Nothing,” she said, smirking. “Or at least nothing you need to worry about, Draco. I’ll be back in a minute.”

She tried very hard not to look too excited as she went to her room. Part of her wanted to skip. Of course, she didn’t know what curse was on the necklace yet, but once she managed to separate the necklaces themselves the curse ought to be weakened and then it would be safer to handle.

“What’s up with you?” Gwen asked as Aurora entered.

“Quiet, I’m onto something.”

She hurried to the drawer where the necklaces were being kept, hands shaking as she opened the little box. Gwen was staring over curiously from the other side of the room. Aurora lifted the necklaces out. They felt suddenly colder and heavier in her hands, and she grinned. She lay them down on the floor away from their beds and told Gwen to stand back.

“Why?” Gwen asked suspiciously.

“Because I’m not totally sure what’s going to happen when I use this spell.”

Gwen pursed her lips. “I think I’ll wait outside.”

Aurora pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh as Gwen hurried out into the corridor. She didn’t think this would cause an explosion, because that was the sort of thing a book should mention. Logically, maybe she should have read more, but she had one goal and she was so close to achieving it.

She pointed her wand tip at the centre of the key, imagining the necklaces slipping from the holes and untangling themselves, and said carefully, “Separatum metallum.”

There was a moment where she thought it hadn’t worked. Nothing was happening. Then slowly, the key began to move. Small pieces of its metal puzzle slid away from one another, lifting into the air and fitting back together again as the necklaces slipped from their holes, silver chains glinting as they rose up and then twisted as they fell to the ground. They metal of the key itself twisted itself, and she could smell the heat coming off of it as the metal reformed itself, darkening as it twisted into a metal serpent. It fell to the ground among the necklaces and slid over the stones to come to rest by Aurora’s foot. She stared at it. That had not been what she’d expected to happen.

The snake hissed at her, and Aurora was reminded of the snake she’d conjured at the Duelling Club, and the one from her initiation. This snake was different. It was fake and metal, and yet there was a cunning light in its eyes that suggested at least sentience, if not life.

But the other necklaces seemed to be whispering. Hissing. Each of them had a serpent on the end, and the chains themselves seemed oddly serpentine as they slithered across the floor to join what had been the key. It was like they were sentient. A rare enchantment - no, a rare curse. They weren’t to be trusted.

“This child is new,” the snake that had once been the key hissed. Aurora startled to find it talking. It even sounded snakelike. “We do not know this one.”

They looked at her interestedly. The key snake flicked its tongue - it was made of rubies, and Aurora had no idea where they came from. She reached out her hand to try and pick the key up, but hesitated. If they were cursed, that probably wasn’t such a good idea. “The child doesn’t trust us. The child doesn’t know what we are.” The necklace snakes seemed to hiss with laughter.

“What are you then?” Aurora asked, and there was a metallic clinking sound as the metal snakes moved, like they were trying to stand to attention? Sit to attention, maybe.

“We are the Black family serpents,” the snake hissed. “Ancient as Hydrus and Ophelie, the first.” They hissed again, and it sounded like laughter.

Hydrus and Ophelie were names Aurora knew well. Arcturus had taught her all the Black family history, and Hydrus and Ophelie Black were the first of their to arrive in England during the Norman Conquest and settled quickly, bringing the elegance of French magical culture to the witches and wizards of Britain. Before the introduction of secrecy laws and persecution, the Black family had worked with - never served - the Muggle monarchy as crown sorcerers. But Hydrus and Ophelie lived almost a millennium ago. “Are you really?” she asked, voice in a gasp. The thought of a piece of her ancestors being here, held in this jewellery for so long, astounded her. “I’m Aurora Black, daughter of Sirius Orion Black, granddaughter of Orion and Walburga Black.”

“The traitor son,” the key snake hissed. “Siriussss.”

“He doesn’t matter,” she told them quickly. The serpent looked at her curiously with emerald eyes. “How long have you been...”

“Bound,” the snake said. “It has been many, many years. Since they brought that soul home, that horrid piece of magic.” The snakes hissed in hatred, but Aurora thought she heard a twinge of fear in their voices. “We serpents have been bound by the liar son, the one who calls himself pure.”

“Who?”

“The boy,” one of the other snakes said. “We do not talk of him.”

“Tell me.”

They only hissed in response. “Who are you to tell us what to do?”

“I freed you!”

“That means nothing to us. We are sworn... But you, child, you are one of us.”

“One of you?”

“A Black. Toujours pur.”

She swallowed. “Toujours pur.”

If metal snakes could smile, they were doing that. “We have been freed, you are correct,” the snake hissed. “And we shall remain free.” She blinked, but nodded slowly. “You may wear our chains around your neck, as any Black may. We protect our family.”

She smiled at first, then it faded. She wasn’t sure it would be a good idea to start wearing necklaces with sentient silver snakes on them at the moment. “Do you only protect Blacks?” she asked curiously.

“We protect at the word of the family,” one snake hissed, and Aurora smiled. “But we are loyal to the Black family above all else.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “Well, if you’re... If you want to stay like this, that’s fine. I might let my friend Gwendolyn wear one of you at some point, if that’s alright?”

“Yesss,” the snake said. “We wish to stay like this. There is a beast in this castle... We can feel it... Like the other soul in the other necklace...”

“We said we wouldn’t tell,” one of the others said. Aurora was having a difficult time telling them apart, and she had to pick up the necklaces to examine them further. She realised - as the snakes protested - that they had different jewels in their eyes. The key snake had emeralds, but the others had sapphire, rubies and amethysts respectively. “We mustn’t. It is a secret from one of the family.”

“Then surely you can tell another member of the family?” Aurora asked, interested piqued again. “What beast is there? What does it have to do with the family?”

“It is a sordid matter,” the sapphire snake said, shuddering. “Let us not speak any more of it.”

“But the-“

“No more talk of the beast! He might hear us! We do not want to attract the wrath of that soul.”

Aurora sank back, sighing. “Do you have names?”

The snakes hissed in a chilling unison. “Cyphus,” said the sapphire-eyed snake on the necklace.

“Claudius,” said the ruby-eyed one, winking.

“Julius,” the amethyst snake hissed, tongue catching the light.

“And I am Lyra,” said the emerald eyed serpent that had made the key.

“But...” Her mind reeled. She had been made to try and memorise most of forty two generations of the Black family. She couldn’t honestly claim to know all of it, but the first few generations and the most recent had stuck and if she remembered correctly, which would admittedly be some feat... “You’re Hydrus and Ophelie’s children?”

“She is a true Black,” Lyra hissed, tongue flickering with a fluidity that solid silver ought not to have. “She knows our history.”

“We will protect you, Aurora Black,” Cyphus hissed. “You are one of our own now.”

She smiled faintly. This hadn’t been what she was expecting, but it was a pleasant surprise. “You’re not cursed, are you?”

The snakes hissing almost jeeringly. “Only as much as you are.”

“What does that mean?”

But Lyra just hissed, flicked her tongue, and slithered to underneath Aurora’s bed, the other necklaces following her lead and curling up in the darkness. Aurora sighed. She didn’t much see the point in trying to argue with cursed, sentient metal snakes. “Gwen?” she called, going back over to the door, resigned.

Gwen was chatting to Leah and Sally-Anne when Aurora opened the door; the latter two girls both started, giving her nervous looks. Aurora glared at them, and after a whispered few words they hurried off to their own rooms. Gwen rolled her eyes. “Do you have to scare off all my friends?”

“They were already scared of me,” Aurora said, shaking her head. “And need I remind you, Robin likes me.”

“Robin likes being scared,” Gwen said. “He’s mad. He should have been a Gryffindor, really.”

Aurora grinned. “Well, I have exciting news anyway. The spell worked and I still have all my limbs!” Gwen laughed. “And it turns out the necklaces and the key are actually the remnants of an ancient - well, I suppose technically medieval, but these sort of classifications are made largely redundant by-“ She caught Gwen’s eyes and blushed, breaking off her rambling. “An old spell by my ancestors, Hydrus and Ophelie Black. They’ve been in the family for, if we accept the lineage I was taught as the correct version, about nine hundred years.”

Gwen’s mouth fell open. “Nine hundred years? How?”

“Hydrus was actually a close personal friend of William the Conqueror, and Ophelie herself was a relative of him. We used to be far closer to the Muggles than we care to admit - of course, it was the nobility, and far before they started trying to murder us all.”

“No wonder your family seems so stuffed up and old.” Aurora glared in protest. “Look, I don’t know my ancestry going any further back than my great-grandparents.”

“Really?” Aurora was curious. “But that’s only four generations! Don’t you have records?”

“Not really,” Gwen said, shrugging. “Don’t look at me like I’m weird, most people can’t trace their family back to William the bloody Conqueror!”

Aurora’s cheeks heated. Sometimes she forgot that other families, and Muggle families, didn’t place that same emphasis on lineage as hers did. It was easy to forget, because most of her friends - Draco and Pansy and Daphne - were from families with a similar concern for ancestry and blood, but for the likes of Gwen she supposed it didn’t really matter at all. It was weird, even if she wouldn’t admit that to Gwen. “Well, we do take pride in it,” she said instead. “But that isn’t even the most important bit - they can protect you, and they take the form of snakes-“

“Are you sure you’re not related to-“

“I am not related to Slytherin, didn’t I just tell you how much of my family’s lineage I had to memorise? I’d remember if I was related to him. No, here’s the thing, they act as protective amulets too! They can protect you!”

“From the Heir?” Gwen’s eyes widened. “You think so?”

“I don’t see why not. The snakes said they would protect whoever wore them, so long as I wanted them to.”

“Are you sure?” Gwen looked rather dubious. “I mean... Your family’s still... And I’m still...”

“They had better protect you,” Aurora said confidently. “They should listen to me.”

“You’re talking about them like they’re alive.”

“Well, they sort of are. They seem sentient at least, I wouldn’t be surprised if the spirits of my ancestors had managed to put some of themselves or their memories in there. There’s an awful lot of old, dark type soul magic - not bad, Dark doesn’t mean bad,” she added, at the uncomfortably look on Gwen’s face. “It’s a very subjective definition anyway, if I remember correctly Elladora Black wrote a book-“

“Aurora,” Gwen said. “Where is this going?”

She blushed again. “They seem to have part of the old Blacks - Cyphus, Claudius, Julius and Lyra - within them. Blacks are nothing if not loyal to the family. They should obey the ruling of their descendants. And, don’t forget, their period in history blood purity really wasn’t such an issue.”

“Except for that time Salazar Slytherin put a monster in a school to kill muggleborns.”

“Well, that-“ Aurora broke off. A thought struck her suddenly. “Bloody Merlin!”

“What?” Gwen asked. Aurora had grabbed her arm very suddenly, and she looked quite alarmed. “What, Aurora?”

Of course, she ought to have considered it earlier. She’d been stupid and caught up, but this was important. “They said there’s a beast!”

Gwen stared at her. “Well, yes.”

“They know what the monster is in the chamber! Cyphus said something about it having a soul, which confirms its existence and that they know about it - but the soul specifically is really important, there’s loads of ancient magic associated with the soul - Kreacher!”

Her house elf appeared diligently, bent by her bed with his nose trailing against the floor. “Yes, Mistress... Kreacher serves Mist-“ He broke off when he caught sight of the three necklaces, which hissed and leapt across the floor, back into the light. His eyes bulged and before either Aurora or Gwen could stop him, he started beating his head against the post of Aurora’s bed.

“Kreacher, no!” Aurora cried, wresting him away. “Stop that!”

“Oh look,” said Claudius gleefully, “it’s the mad old elf.”

“Kreacher won’t tell, Kreacher won’t tell!”

“Tell what?”

“Bad snakes, lying snakes, telling tales about my master, good Master Regulus-“ He broke off, howling again, and Gwen neatly slipped out the door with an expression of great alarm. Leaving Aurora to sort this out.

“You four, begone,” Aurora snapped. The snakes just hissed.

“The elf issss mad...” Lyra whispered.

“Old thing driven round the twissst,” Cyphus added, hissing cruelly.

“Never did have care for house elves,” Julius said. “Nasty little beasssties!”

Kreacher let out a cry and Aurora had to restrain him. “Shut up” she yelled, and though it was aimed at the snakes, Kreacher did too. “Now, Kreacher,” she said in a more measured voice, “don’t hurt yourself. I only called you here to ask for some more books. I need some texts about the magic of souls.”

She’d expected Kreacher to comply as he had with all orders. Indeed, he looked greatly strained while she watched expectantly. Then he let out a loud wail. “Kreacher won’t!” he cried. “Kreacher won’t!”

And then, without even being dismissed, he disappeared with a loud crack, leaving the four snakes to hiss at his departure.


	31. The Fourth Attack

Despite Aurora’s initial hopes, the four snakes had proven even less useful than Kreacher in helpin her figure out anything to do with the Chamber of Secrets, and after a week or so her curiosity dwindled. So long as her friends remained safe and there was no threat to her personally, she could let it rest. It was up to the teachers to deal with anyway, and though her pride didn’t really want her to admit it, if she couldn’t get the snakes to tell her directly, she had no way of figuring it out, and even then they only confirmed there was a monster.

Besides, as the term wore on, there were no new attacks. Aurora wondered if maybe they’d stopped for good, and she couldn’t help but be relieved. Even if they didn’t like to admit it, she could tell her friends were too.

“Of course, there was never a chance of us being targets,” Draco said, “but I suppose it makes things easier, the teachers aren’t as stressed and strict anymore.”

And they all had other things to focus on soon, too. During the Easter holidays they were asked to choose what elective subjects they wanted to begin in their third year. She had a choice of Ancient Runes, Divination, Arithmancy, Muggle Studies and Care of Magical Creatures, though Divination and Arithmancy were scheduled for the same times, as were Care of Magical Creatures and Muggle Studies. The former two were both subjects that interested her, while she had very little interest in either of the latter, which made it a more difficult than she wished.

While if she had been in a different house she might have asked her head of house if there was any chance of her being moved into different time slots in order to accommodate her choices, she thought Snape would be very unhelpful, and she didn't like to talk to him any more than was strictly necessary. He felt the same way, and so Aurora was in a bit of a pickle over her subject choices. Arithmancy was something she had always been interested in, but Divination presented a chance to learn something new. Care of Magical Creatures could indeed be interesting, but she had never been much of an animal person, with the exception of Stella. Dora had recommended Muggle Studies, but she knew she'd be laughed out of the common room if she decided to study that, and she didn’t think there was that much the Muggle world could give anyone that wizards didn’t have in another form, except for ballpoint pens. Ancient Runes was a given choice, and so that didn't bother her, but the other four presented a peculiar challenge. She didn't know why they couldn't just let her study everything she wanted to, but she thought if she raised that question to Snape he'd find a way to stop her studying any electives, purely out of spite.

She deliberated on this subject for days, during which time all her friends received numerous owls suggesting what they should study. “My father says Divination’s a load of crackpot nonsense,” Draco said.

“I suspect some Muggles would say that about any form of magic,” Daphne said lightly - she had decided to take Divination and was not impressed by the others’ dismissal of the subject.

“And I suppose anything is better than Muggle Studies.” He said it so sneeringly that Aurora knew she couldn’t possibly elect to study it now. “So I’m going to do Care of Magical Creatures.”

“That’s it settled, then,” Aurora said. “I’m doing Arithmancy, Care of Magical Creatures, and Ancient Runes. Though I do wish I could do Divination as well.”

Daphne sighed. “Well, at least I won’t have anyone to distract me.”

“You’ll have me,” Theodore said cheerfully, and Daphne glared at him.

“You’re not interesting enough to distract me, Theodore.”

Pansy laughed and Aurora gave Theodore an apologetic look. His cheeks had gone very red.

Tensions began to mount again as the end of the Quidditch season approached. The Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff match was due shortly after the end of the holidays, and Neville seemed surprisingly anxious for someone who wasn’t even on the team. “I really want us to win this year,” he told Aurora in Potions, when Snape was too busy insulting Potter to hear them. “We missed our chance last year, and imagine taking the house cup and Quidditch Cup!”

“You’re not going to win the Quidditch Cup,” Aurora told him, a little harsher than usual. “Slytherin’s the superior team and always has been. Just because you have Potter doesn’t mean you’re the best. Besides, I wouldn’t support you anyway.” Neville went a little red and wouldn’t meet her eyes. “If you lose, we go up in the rankings.”

“Yes,” he mumbled, “but we might not lose. And you’ve had your fair share of victory now, it’s our turn.”

Aurora laughed. “Just keep an eye on those porcupine quills, Neville. Because Gryffindor is never winning the Quidditch Cup.”

The morning of the match was a sunny one. Perfect playing conditions. Aurora wished she could have been playing today, but her time would come eventually, she just knew it had to. The Slytherin Table wasn’t particularly excited about the fixture, though Flint and some of the boys on the team - who were pointedly excluding Aurora at the minute - talked excitedly about how many points Gryffindor would have to lose by for Slytherin to slip past their lead.

She decided to leave breakfast early to have a walk and look in the library before the match; after all, she did still have to figure out how that ring worked. She made promises to Pansy and Daphne to meet them at the Quidditch pitch, and made her own way out of the Great Hall. She’d barely made it along the corridor when she was stopped by Potter, interfering as always.

“Black.” His voice rang out in the corridor behind Aurora and she turned around slowly, eyebrows arched.

“Potter.”

“Give it back.”

She stared at him, quite perplexed. “Give what back, Potter?”

“I know you broke into Gryffindor Common Room yesterday. I know you - you broke into my dormitory and you stole my...” He went red. Aurora sneered, laughing a little.

“Stole your what, Potter? Stuffed lion?”

“You stole my diary,” he mumbled.

She grinned, bursting into laughter. “What possible reason would I have for taking your diary, Potter? I have no desire to know about your life.”

He looked flustered. “Because... Because of Christmas.”

She frowned, and then laughed airily as she realised what he meant. “Oh, I dealt with that ages ago. You have kept your word, haven’t you?” He nodded tightly. She hadn’t seen anything in papers, nor had she heard anything from Draco that suggested otherwise. “Well Potter. I’m quite over revenge, so long as you and Weasley keep your mouths shut.” At his confusion, she grinned. “You really are clueless, you know.”

“I am not!” To prove his point, Potter stamped his foot childishly, which only made Aurora laugh harder.

“What possible reason could I have for wanting to read your diary? And, loathe as I am to admit it Potter, I don’t even know how to get into Gryffindor Tower.”

“You’ve been following Neville about, cozying up to him! Taking advantage of him!”

“Of Neville?” Aurora stared at him. “He’s my friend.”

“Yeah, right.”

“No, he is,” she said. “He helps me with Herbology and I help him with Potions. Keeps us both out of trouble.”

“He’s scared of you. He told me so. He won’t stand up to you.”

“He doesn’t need to stand up to me.”

Potter glared at her, apparently furious at the idea of being incorrect. “I know you’re up to something, Black. You’re - you’re manipulating him!”

“Am I now?”

“Well I don’t know what other reason you’d befriend Neville for!”

She stared at him. For a horrid moment, Aurora didn’t know what to say, but came to her senses. “You don’t actually know me, Potter. I don’t hate everyone as much as I hate you.” There was still a slight nervous feeling in her stomach which she hated. Was Neville really afraid of her? She knew he wasn’t, she’d never even tried to intimidate him. She couldn’t explain why he mattered, but with the guilt of what her family did to his and the fact that he was clearly scared of most things, she could never not be kind to him. At least as far as she’d realised. But how cared what Potter thought, she reminded herself. He was an idiot, after all. Aurora smirked half-heartedly at him. “You know, you really ought to go to your Quidditch match. I would be so awfully disappointed if we didn’t get to see you lose. Besides,” she added lowly, “I think you’re attracting quite enough suspicion, lurking in the corridors all the time.”

“Like you don’t! If you’re trying to accuse me-“

She laughed. “You accused me first, Potter, remember? And I’ll remind you again of how well that went, Mr. Parselmouth.” Aurora sneered. “Run along now, Potter.”

“Don’t talk to me like that!”

“Like what?” she asked, putting on an image of innocence that she just knew would anger him.

“I don’t trust you, Black.”

Aurora considered him for a long moment, and he didn’t look away. She sneered down her nose. “I don’t honestly care what you think of me, Potter. But I would appreciate if you showed some signs of intelligence instead of accusing me of attempted murder.”

And with that, she turned on her heel, trying to remain cool. She would wander for a little while before heading to the game late; she had to cool off. But she did dearly want to see Potter defeated.

It was only five or ten minutes before she headed down to the Quidditch Pitch, where most of the school was already filling the stands. She made her way up the stairs where the green and yellow colours were, eyes peeled for any of her friends, but was interrupted just before she reached Pansy and the girls by a sharp blow of the whistle. She turned around, as the announcement echoed over the stadium. “All students are to return to their common rooms at once. The match has been cancelled.”

She looked up. It was a bright and sunny day, perfect Quidditch conditions. This could only mean one thing. There had been another attack. “Gwen!” she yelled immediately, rushing to meet Pansy. “Where’s Gwen?”

“Tearston? I don’t know, last I saw she was with Oliphant.”

Her heart raced. No, not Gwen. She should be protected, she reminded herself. She’d be fine. But she couldn’t help the sense of panic that gripped her. What if she wasn’t? And she’d spent her time arguing with Potter, and she could have been with Gwen, and then she’d know she was okay.

“Robin!” she yelled, searching the stands even as the crowd started moving in the other direction. “Robin! Gwen!”

“What?” It was Robin who yelled out, and a second later someone was ruffling her hair.

“Oi! Get off!”

“Relax,” Gwen laughed, and Robin dropped his hand down to his side. Aurora fixed him with a glare.

“Do not touch my hair again.”

He winked. “Noted.”

“Do you know what this means?” she demanded as they clung together in the crowd. “Someone must have been attacked, that’s the only reason they’d call the match off.”

“You really think so?” Gwen’s voice was laced with nerves now. “God, I didn’t think... There haven’t been any attacks in so long.” She looked around her as though expecting to be attacked at any second. “We should hurry back.”

Aurora nodded as they descended the stairs. “My thoughts exactly.”

The news came later that evening. There had been two attacks: Hermione Granger and Penelope Clearwater were both Petrified. Aurora felt sickened. She didn’t like Granger, but she did know her, and the news shook all of them. The only good thing was that no one had been killed - or at least, no one had been killed yet. Dumbledore had been removed from his post as Headmaster, and word was that Hagrid had been sent to Azkaban. Aurora supposed he did have a certain weird affection for monstrous, dangerous animals, but she had a difficult time believing the man who had been so kind to everyone could possibly want to hurt Muggleborns students. Granger had done an awful lot for him last year in harbouring his dragon, and Aurora just didn’t buy the idea that he had done this. Still, it wasn’t like she knew him. She’d never really spoken to him, apart from that one incident last year. She just hoped that it did stop the attacks.

Now no one was allowed to be alone, and they were to be moved from class to class by teachers. This did seem to comfort Gwen a little bit, but she seemed terrified at the prospect of Hogwarts closing, as Snape had told them might very well be the case. “We can go to Beauxbatons,” Aurora told her confidently, when the girls were settled in Pansy and Millicent’s room - they’d been ordered out of the common room for a prefects’ meeting, but no one wanted to go to sleep just yet.

“I don’t even know what that is!”

“It’s in France,” Lucille said. “My mother was educated there, I wouldn’t mind studying there at all.”

“My dad’d like to send me to Durmstrang,” Millicent said. “But I think it’d be awfully cold.”

“I’d prefer Beauxbatons,” Aurora said, and gave Gwen an encouraging smile. “It’s meant to be really lovely there in the Summer, and they teach Alchemy.”

“I can’t go to France!” Gwen cried. “I don’t speak French! I’ll have to go back to the Muggle world!”

“No, you won’t,” Daphne assured her. “They’re bound to catch the Heir now, and we won’t let you get stuck in the Muggle world. The Ministry will have to find somewhere for you to learn, and assist you in doing so. It’s their duty to people like you.”

“See?” Aurora said, as Daphne sat back primly. “It’ll be alright. We just have to stick together for now, and we’ll get through it.”

Though most of the school was very on edge about the Heir, as they should be, Aurora couldn’t help but notice that Draco and Pansy seemed almost happy about it. “Of course, there’s nothing for us to worry about,” Draco said in a drawling voice the next day at breakfast. Gwen looked down, pale. “We’ll all be quite safe, I’m sure. And perhaps with Dumbledore gone, the way is paved for better leadership.”

“Like who?” Aurora asked. “I don’t like Dumbledore all that much, but he is very well respected by most of the Wizarding World. People won’t take his removal well.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Pansy. “I suspect my parents will be rather pleased. Dumbledore’s been Headmaster for so long, and he’s getting old. It’s about time we had some new blood.”

“I think Snape should go for it,” Draco said, and Aurora didn’t bother to hide her disgust.

“If Snape became Headmaster, I think I really would go to Beauxbatons, regardless of what happened with the Heir.”

The atmosphere of fear was tangible around the school over the next few weeks. Aurora could feel Potter watching her intensely during and between classes, and she knew exactly why. She wanted to slap some sense into him, but considering how close he and Granger had been, she did feel a certain twinge of sympathy.

Neville was terrified, too, despite being a pureblood. “You’ll be fine,” Aurora assured him briskly during Potions a couple of weeks after the attacks. “Hagrid’s been taken to Azkaban and if he is the Heir, that means the attacks will stop now. Besides, Granger and the others are only Petrified, and you know the Mandrakes are almost ready.” She grinned encouragingly and stopped him from adding a shrivelfig by mistake. “From what I heard you helped Professor Sprout with them, too.”

Neville went red. “She told you that?”

“I have my ways of hearing things,” Aurora told him cheerfully. “They’ll be alright, Neville. Just keep your chin up and it’ll be back to normal in no time.” She hoped so, at least.

On the other side of the classroom, Draco was loudly telling Crabbe and Goyle how his father had played a personal role in having Dumbledore dismissed. Aurora didn’t understand how he could act so pleased about everything, when even most of Slytherin House was on edge and worried about the Heir coming for them. It was like he just didn’t care, and that unnerved her. “Sir,” Draco was saying aloud, clearly trying to draw the class’s attention to him. Aurora rolled her eyes and kept bent over her cauldron. “Sir, why don’t you apply for the Headmaster position?”

That was the last thing anybody wanted. Neville looked like he might pass out at the very idea. “Now, now, Draco,” Snape said, looking like he was trying not to smile. Aurora wanted to slap him. “Professor Dumbledore has only been suspended by the governors. I daresay he will be back with us soon.”

“I’d rather Snape was the one who got kicked out,” Aurora said very quietly to Neville, who smiled a little, though he still looked nervous. He always looked nervous, though.

“I expect you’d have Father’s vote if you did want to apply for the job, sir. I’ll tell Father you’re the best teacher here, sir.”

Seamus Finnigan mimed throwing up into the cauldron and it was the first time Aurora agreed with him. “Suck-up,” Millicent muttered from in front of Aurora, and both she and Daphne laughed.

“I’m quite surprised the Mudbloods haven’t all packed their bags by now,” Draco said, and Aurora tensed. She wished he would just shut up and leave it. “I bet five galleons the next one dies. I just wish it had been Granger.”

It was very lucky that the bell rang then, because Aurora was sure Draco was going to be punched by Weasley. She had to drag him out of the Gryffindor’s way.

“What’d you say that to Weasley for?” she asked in a hiss as they were moved along to their next lesson.

“Don’t tell me you feel bad for the Mudbloods now, Aurora.”

“I feel bad for anyone who’s been Petrified, Draco,” she snapped. “It’s honestly more concerning that you don’t. And that’s not the point - you’re just giving Weasley an excuse to fight you!”

“It’s not like you don’t do the same to Potter.”

“That’s different,” she whispered back, not totally sure how, but convinced that it was. “I make sure I have the upper hand. And I get you out of trouble.”

Draco glared at her. “I don’t need you to get me out of trouble, Aurora. Just leave off, would you? I don’t need a lecture.”

He strode forward to mutter to Crabbe and Goyle, leaving Aurora with furiously stinging eyes. She fell into step with the other girls - though remained close enough that she could hex Weasley if he got within swinging distance of Draco. “You were awfully short with Draco there,” Pansy said, frowning at her. “You shouldn’t be so rude.”

“He’s being stupid,” Aurora told her, anger and frustration shaking her. “When he acts like that, all he achieves is angering people. He fancies himself a politician like his father, but Lucius Malfoy didn’t get anywhere by simply insulting people and expecting to be feared.”

“She is right,” Daphne said, with a cold look at Pansy. “I think Draco’s being foolish, too. The last thing he wants is for someone to get the impression that he actually is the Heir, and the way he’s talking, I wouldn’t be surprised if people did speak that.”

“Except the Heir wouldn’t be so loud about it,” Millicent pointed out. “So he’s really just being a prat.”

Aurora gave Millicent an approving look, though Pansy and Lucille still looked like they wanted to argue with her, but could tell they would lose. She kept her eyes on Draco though, hand tight on her wand every time Weasley struggles towards him. If he laid a finger on her friend, she’d hex him to oblivion.


	32. End of Second Year

The next morning in Charms they were informed that they would be sitting exam’s in three weeks’ time. “But that’s ridiculous!” Draco cried indignantly. “We can’t possibly be expected to sit exams, Professor! We’re all so deeply affected by the attacks!”

Flitwick shook his head. “The decision isn’t up to me,” he said. “But Hogwarts is a school first and foremost, and we all want you to receive the best education you can, in these circumstances! Of course, we will take the situation into account, but you needn’t worry too much!”

“Then why make us do exams at all?” Pansy asked, whining. “Just give us a rest for the rest of term!”

“Oh, I’m sure you would all find that infinitely preferable,” Flitwick said. “But McGonagall trusts this is the best decision, and it is what Dumbledore would have wanted.”

“Who cares what Dumbledore wants?” Blaise said loudly. “He’s not Headmaster anymore, is he?”

At that, Flitwick seemed a little irritated. “Perhaps not, but he has still done a great deal for this school and its students. If anyone has any concerns, you are free to speak to me, Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, or any of your other teachers in your own time. But we had better crack on now! How about we revise the Engorgement Charm?”

For the next few weeks, most of Aurora’s house went one of two extreme ways: they either wrapped themselves entirely in revision, or refused to look at a book at all in protest. Draco, Pansy, Blaise and Daphne all fell into the latter category, and it fell largely to Aurora and Theodore to try and coax them into revision, which didn’t work very well at all. Gwen for her part was trying to revise, but was clearly distracted, something which Aurora couldn’t blame her for at all. She and Robin accompanied her everywhere, even if it was crossing the Great Hall, as a precaution, though Gwen did express frustration. “It’s obvious I’m a muggleborn if you two are hanging about like you’re terrified I’ll get attacked!” she told them, but still refused to be in their room alone without Aurora, just in case the Heir snuck in.

Gwen seemed to think, though, that it was safest for her to be surrounded by a crowd of people in the common room, no matter how jumpy she got when someone she didn’t know sat down near them. Their study group expanded into Aurora, Theodore, Millicent, Robin, Gwen, and occasionally a reluctant Draco and Pansy. “We’re trying to stage a protest here,” Pansy said, eyes determinedly off of the Transfiguration textbook they had in front of them on the table. “If Snape was Headmaster, he would never have made us do exams.”

“Yes he would,” Theodore said, rolling his eyes. “If nothing else but to see everyone annoyed about it.”

“And don’t act like you’re so upset about Hermione Granger,” Millicent added to Pansy, who glared at her. “You’re just lazy.”

“I am not!” Pansy declared. “I just don’t see the point in doing unnecessary work because it’s what Albus Dumbledore would have wanted me to do! It’s not like he’s dead! He just got sacked!”

“I’m still waiting to hear back from father,” Draco told them all importantly. “He’ll speak to the governors.”

“That’s an awful lot of energy to put into trying to get out of exams,” Aurora told him, rolling her eyes. “Energy that could, perhaps, be put into actually studying.”

He scowled.

Though they couldn’t meet students from other hours apart from in classes, meaning Neville and Aurora couldn’t have a proper study session together, they still found a way to quietly revise. In Potions, they would alternate between Aurora adding an ingredient and explaining part of the process, and Neville copying her. Any lighter work, such as stirring or menial chopping, would allow him to talk Aurora over some of the ways to deal with various plants. The conversation actually seemed to set him at ease, Aurora noted. He performed much better when he was at ease and not stressed out so much. It also helped that a lot of their ingredients included plants, giving him an opportunity to show his own knowledge in relation to Potions, which she could tell made him more confident. She felt better about Herbology, too, even though she didn’t have much proper practice with Neville. It seemed the trick was to try and understand the plants and be kind to them. Aurora felt rather foolish when she tried to be nice to a plant, but they did seem to do much better when she was gentle with them, even if many still seemed repulse by her touch.

Three days before the exams were due to start, they all got some very good news as McGonagall stood up at breakfast and announced that the Petrified victims would be revived that night. “I need hardly remind you all that one of them may be able to tell us who, or what, attacked them. I am hopeful that the culprit may well be caught by the end of term.”

The Great Hall erupted into noisy cheers and chatters, and Aurora grinned. Only Draco looked displeased - she tossed a piece of toast at him. “Stop sulking,” she said. “This is a good thing!”

“Do you really think they’ll catch the culprit?” Gwen asked Aurora and Robin as they went quickly towards Defense Against the Dark Arts. “It could all be over?”

“I thought they said earlier that Hagrid was the culprit,” Robin said dubiously. “And there haven’t been any attacks since he went to Azkaban, have there?” Aurora still shuddered at the name of that place.

“Clearly McGonagall doesn’t agree,” Aurora whispered. “But this is all for the better isn’t it?” She grinned at Gwen, who returned the gesture nervously. “It’s all going to be fine.”

Their Herbology class - which was for once, going rather well for Aurora - was almost finished when Filch came running out over the grounds towards the greenhouse. He burst in. “Students are to go to their common room!” he panted, and Sprout’s eyes widened in alarm. “A girl has been taken into the chamber!”

The whole class gasped, even Draco, quite horrified. “What?” Gwen said. She had gone quite white.

“Right, everyone,” Sprout said, her voice very serious as opposed to her usual determined cheerfulness. “Put all your equipment down, take your bags. I’ll tidy up, we must go at once. And stick together, no wandering off.”

Aurora didn’t think any of them were at all considering of wandering off. Gwen gripped her hand tightly as they went up the slope towards the castle. “How have they taken someone into the chamber?” she asked nervously. “You don’t think...”

“They’ve killed them,” Robin said, voice rather hollow. “They must have.”

“Oh, don’t say that!” Aurora said in alarm, even though she agreed.

“Why else would they have?” Gwen asked, wringing her hands. “Oh, imagine, it’s horrid! That could have been me!”

“Don’t say that either!” Aurora cried, holding Gwen tightly. “We don’t know what’s happened yet, do we? Let’s just get back to the common room and stick together.”

“I want to write Mum and Dad,” Gwen said. “I have to tell them.”

“You’ll only worry them,” Aurora said rationally, but Robin said, “You can borrow my owl.”

He shrugged at her glare. “They should know. And I suspect Hogwarts might close soon, too... If... If the student is, you know...”

He let the word hang in the air this time, which didn’t make Aurora feel better, nor did it seem to calm Gwen at all. By the time they reached the Slytherin Common Room, counted in by Professor Sprout, she was shaking with anxiety, and they had to fetch Millicent’s coziest pink blanket to wrap around her shoulders.

It seemed like hours before Snape came to speak to them. “A girl has indeed been taken into the Chamber of Secrets,” he said slowly. “Some of you may know her. Miss Ginny Weasley.” Aurora’s stomach plummeted. Ginny. She didn’t really know her, but it was still shocking. And she was so small. So young. She felt like she was going to be sick, and Gwen’s face had taken on a rather green tinge. One of the first year girls looked like she was crying. “Apart from that, I am not at liberty to tell you details. Pack your belongings. The Hogwarts Express will be arriving tomorrow morning to return you to your families. No one except a Prefect is to leave the confines of the common room and dormitories, and all Prefects may only see me in exceptional or emergency circumstances, in groups of four. That is all.” It was the first time she had ever seen Snape look worried about his students. “I trust the Prefects have counted the students?”

“All accounted for, sir,” said Yaxley nervously.

“Good. See it remains that way.”

He turned on his heel and left them. “The school’s closing?” Robin said.

“Are you surprised?” Theodore asked. “It can’t remain open after this.”

“Poor Ginny,” Aurora said quietly. “I feel awful for her parents, don’t you?” The Weasleys we’re technically family, and the girl had always looked so small. Molly Weasley would be devastated.

Even Draco appeared shaken, as evidenced by the fact that he had nothing nasty to say about the Weasleys. All year long he’d spoken about the possibility of someone dying, but now someone had, he seemed sick at the thought. “It is horrid,” he said eventually, quietly, and only to Aurora. “Even if it is Weasley’s sister. She’s a pureblood, even if she is a blood traitor. What’s the monster want with a pureblood?”

“I don’t know,” Aurora said numbly. “Oh, this is horrid.”

“Where will you go?” he whispered. “Durmstrang or Beauxbatons?”

“I don’t even know,” she whispered. She supposed it wasn’t even entirely her decision. Maybe Andromeda and Ted would be making the decision for her. What if they sent her somewhere else, like Ilvermorny? She couldn’t stand for that. She frowned worriedly and leaned against Draco’s shoulder. “But wherever we go, we’ll go together, right?” The idea of not sharing her days with her best friend was terrifying.

She swore she could see Death’s shadow moving over the stone walls, flickering by the fireplace. A small part of her wanted to follow, see where Ginny was, see if there was anything she could do. The Weasleys were technically family after all (even if she mentally disowned Ronald). But she was too scared to leave the common room. And if the monster had taken Ginny, who was to say it wouldn’t take her too? She had to hide, and she had to stay with her friends. They’d all keep each other safe, she knew.

They were brought lunch and dinner by house elves who Apparated quickly in and out of the common room. No one felt much like eating, even Vincent and Greg. The girls all packed silently later on, and the others - Pansy, Daphne, Millicent and Lucille - all piled into the floor in Aurora and Gwen’s room, all of them reluctant to separate. Aurora tried to sleep, but every time she closed her eyes all she could think of was Death. Ginny Weasley was dying and there was nothing she could do. But one of the professors ought to have done something. Dumbledore ought to have done something earlier, after the first attack. They shouldn’t have waited for someone to die. They had been useless, the whole lot of them, and now a girl was dead or dying. Everyone said Dumbledore was a great man, but he had let this happen.

She felt awful for Molly Weasley. She knew that all of the other Prewetts had passed away, with Ignatius being the last of her family, and to lose a child, especially one so young, was unthinkable.

She couldn’t recall getting to sleep, but at around one in the morning she was woken up by Millicent. “They’re saying we’re to go to the Great Hall!” she said, beaming in her fluffy pink dressing gown. “They’ve caught the Heir!”

“What?” Aurora asked groggily, standing up. “Who?”

“I don’t know who, but Potter and Weasley did it!”

“What?” Gwen stared over. “They’ve caught them? You’re sure?” She looked like she was going to cry of happiness as she ran over and hugged first Millicent and then Aurora.

“I’m sure McGonagall will explain more, but we should go! Come on!”

They didn’t bother getting dressed properly, though Daphne and Pansy fussed over their hair. Everyone was going upstairs in dressing gowns and pyjamas and slippers, each of them excited and curious.

It was apparent, once they got to the Great Hall, that Dumbledore had returned to the school already. No one quite knew what was going on, but the story got around quickly - how Potter and Weasley had heard Ginny had been taken to the chamber and how they’d worked out it was a Basilisk down there and found the entrance, which Potter opened with Parseltongue, and how no one knew quite who the Heir turned out to be but they had been dealt with, and Potter had saved Ginny Weasley. It was quite a tale, and made better by the feast.

The Petrified victims came in at around two o’clock to a round of applause. Gwen was cheering loudest of anyone at the table, holding Robin’s hand tightly. They all gorged themselves on cake and other Hogwarts delicacies, and everyone cheered to hear exams had been cancelled and to see Hagrid returned, and Aurora didn’t even care (much) that Potter and Weasley had won four hundred points for Gryffindor to win them the House Cup again, because they had done what she had been too scared to and gone to save Ginny, and she was beyond relieved that they had. And she wouldn’t have to leave Hogwarts - or be separated from her friends - after all.

Despite rumours saying Potter and Weasley has caught the Heir, no one seemed to know who the Heir was. Potter didn’t even acknowledge the fact that he had been wrong about Aurora, but she was above confronting him about it. He’d been proven wrong anyway, and the satisfaction of being right was more than enough for Aurora. She was content to merely give him a few superior looks and watch his discomfort.

The Summer term ended in glorious sunshine. Hogwarts returned mostly to normal, except that their Defense Against the Dark Arts had been cancelled. Somehow, in the chamber, Potter had managed to remove Lockhart’s memory and he was currently being treated in St. Mungo’s. Aurora didn’t understand what had happened there and frankly didn’t care to ask. Potions was still rather wretched, only compensated for by Neville, who was more cheerful than Aurora had ever seen him, especially after Hermione Granger had thanked him for helping with the Mandrakes that revived her.

Aurora and Potter for the most part continued to ignore each other, which suited her just fine. She didn’t need Potter’s approval, but it was nice to know he - and the rest of the school - didn’t think she was an aspiring murderer anymore. It helped that Draco had lost some of his usual arrogance towards Potter and friends after his father was sacked from the board of governors and lost his house elf all in the space of twenty-four hours. He didn’t say, but Aurora got the sense that Lucius had had something to do with the Heir’s appearance at Hogwarts, and she made a note to stay out of his way. She was glad she was going home to the Tonkses this Summer - Dora had written to say she’d be picking her up at Platform Nine and Three Quarters and was eager to hear good news from Hogwarts as opposed to the recent scandal reported in the Daily Prophet.

All too soon it seemed they were all on their way back home. Aurora made the journey with Daphne, Pansy, Lucille and Millicent, all of whom were considerably more cheerful than they had been a month ago. “We will definitely have you to stay at some point this Summer,” Pansy promised. “These three are all coming for the gala, you must join us too. I’ll force Mother to let you.”

“Oh, please do,” Aurora said. She’d always wanted to go to a Parkinson Manor gala.

“I’ve chosen my dress robes already,” Daphne said with a smile. “They’re simply gorgeous, from Twilfitt and Taffling’s most exclusive range. Mother, Astoria and I are going to be fitted in a few days’ time.”

“You all have new robes?” Millicent asked worriedly. “I was just going to wear my old blue ones.”

“Oh, no, Millicent,” Lucille said, looking appalled. “Those are dreadfully out of date. You must come shopping with my sisters and I instead. And you too, Aurora.”

She grinned at the invitation. “We’ll see. I don’t trust Dora’s fashion sense, especially when it comes to dress robes.”

As they sped on through the countryside, the girls filled the last hours together with chatter and gossip that was far more light-hearted than the rumours that had filled the year at school. They feasted merrily on the sweets from the trolley, and the others all cooed over Stella when she woke from a nap, looking for their attention. The sun was just starting to go down when they arrived at King’s Cross, and Aurora hauled her trunk off of the train. The girls all hugged each other tightly in goodbye, promising to write to one another all the time, before going their separate ways to their families.

“Wotcher, munchkin,” Dora greeted, ruffling Aurora’s hair unexpectedly.

“Hey!” she protested, turning around with a pout. “Don’t mess up my hair!”

Dora grinned. “Someone’s sassy today.” She brought out her wand for a quick lightening Charm and grabbed Aurora’s trunk for her. “How was your skive term?”

“It wasn’t a skive term,” Aurora said defensively as they headed towards the barrier.

“You had no exams! I’m jealous as anything!”

“We had a monster in the school!” Aurora protested, and Dora squeezed her shoulder in a weird, almost protective way. She tried to avoid the thought of the motion’s familiarity. “Moody still working you hard?”

“Oh, he never stops. Still, it’ll all be worth it in a year when I graduate.” She beamed. “You fancy being an Auror someday?”

“Aurora the Auror?” Aurora laughed. “Absolutely not, it would sound ridiculous.”

Dora grinned and nudged Aurora’s shoulder as together they went through the barrier and towards home.


	33. News from Azkaban

“I’m dead jealous,” was the first thing Dora said when Aurora showed her the Nimbus Two Thousand and One she’d been allowed to bring home for the Summer holidays. “Dad, look at that. That’s a top quality racing broom, that is!”

Ted grinned as he came over from the sofa. “Giving Gryffindor a run for their money then, eh?”

“Well,” she said huffily, “I haven’t, and Draco actually lost to Potter, but we’ll get there. Once they let me actually play properly.” She looked at Dora. “I was benched all season, even before it got cut short.”

Andromeda shook her head. “Slytherin’s always been the same, Aurora. Tradition is tradition and when it comes to Quidditch, that means no girls get to play. It’s remarkable you got yourself a spot in the first place.”

“Draco got me the spot,” she muttered, crossing her arms. “Well, he got me the trial. I don’t think Flint thought I would be any good, but I was.”

“You just keep at it next season,” Ted told her. “There must be a spot opening.”

“Only a Chaser and Beater,” she said. “Now Pucey and Symms have left, but Flint says he has a plan of who he wants to join the Chaser trio and I doubt it’ll be me, and I’m not really the build for a Beater. But I guess at least I’d get to play.” Aurora scowled. “I might have a chance next year: there’s a few seventh years now, including Flint, so they’ll leave. It’s so frustrating though.”

“I quite share your frustration, Aurora. They were the same in my day.” Andromeda smiled. “Bloody brilliant broom though.”

“Can I have a go?” Dora asked, seemingly unable to help herself. Aurora laughed.

“Go for it.”

“Oh, you don’t want to give Dora a broom, she’ll fly it into a tree.”

“Dad!” Dora looked quite furious. “I am not that clumsy! I was on the Hufflepuff team!”

“And Slytherin had a winning streak all that time,” Andromeda said with a smirk. Both Ted and Dora looked annoyed by this comment, prompting Aurora to laugh.

“I won’t fly it into a tree,” Dora assured her. “Dad’s just trying to embarrass me, like he always does.”

“That’s my job.”

“Give us a go then.” She winked. “Promise I won’t hurt it.”

Despite Dora’s assurances, Aurora was incredibly nervous watching her fly the Nimbus Two Thousand and One around the Tonkses’ garden, and breathed out a giant sigh of relief when she touched down again. “Wicked,” Dora said, grinning. She scrunched up her nose to force her hair back into place, at the same time turning it a vibrant orange.

“I’m still so jealous you can do that,” Aurora told her.

“Listen,” Dora said, grinning, “you still got that colour-changing potion I got you for Christmas?”

“Yes,” she said warily, “but I haven’t used it yet.” Seeing the grin on Dora’s face, she added, “But I’m not going to dye it that colour!”

Dora grinned. “Aw, but you’d look so cute ginger.”

“And be mistaken for a Weasley?” She pulled a face. “No way. Plus, it’d probably turn it green.”

“It could match your robes!”

“Absolutely not. Well...”

“One day,” Dora said, with a wink. “I’ll bring you round to it. Only don’t tell Mum, she’d kill me for ‘leading sweet little Aurora astray’.”

“Sweet little Aurora?” She pulled an incredulous face, causing Dora to laugh.

“You are very cute, little munchkin.”

She scowled playfully. “You’re not getting a turn on my broom anymore. And don’t call me munchkin!”

Dora just grinned.

Xx

The Parkinsons’ annual Summer gala was set for the second week in August, and this year Aurora had been invited. She felt very grown up when she went to go shopping with Millicent and Lucille in Diagon Alley, all of them excited. Lucille already had more robes than she could possibly know what to do with - Aurora had seen her Hogwarts wardrobe - but she still wanted a new set for the gala, while Millicent fretted over what to buy.

“I like these grey ones,” she told them, looking dubiously at the racks in Twilfitt and Taffling’s.

“You can’t wear grey to a Summer gala, Millie!” Lucille cried, holding several sets of scarlet, orange and canary yellow robes. “It has to be bright! Colourful! Summery! Like Aurora’s!” She pointed to the soft blue robes Aurora was holding, which were so soft and silky they felt like water between her hands.

Millicent grumbled, but the others helped her pick out a set of pale lilac and silver robes that went well with her complexion. They took an awfully long time to decide what to buy, but Lucille’s mother didn’t seem to mind, and even took them out for ice cream as a treat afterwards before returning the girls home.

When Aurora got inside, having been dropped off in the garden by Mrs Travers, she could tell something was off. Dora wasn’t home for a starter and Andromeda and Ted were talking nervously in the kitchen.

“We’ll have to tell her before she sees it in the papers.”

“It’s an awful thing to have to break to her, though. Goodness, and she’s had such a lovely day out.”

“What’s going on?” she asked uncertainly, hovering in the doorway.

Andromeda startled when she saw her, an expression of guilt coming over her face. “Oh, Aurora! Sorry, dear, I didn’t hear you coming in!”

She glanced between them both. “What are you talking about? What do you need to tell me? And where’s Dora?”

“She’s been called into the Ministry for an emergency training session,” Andromeda began.

That made Aurora nervous. What emergency? “And?”

“We’ve just gotten the news through from Azkaban,” Ted said. There was a nervous look in his eyes, and Aurora’s stomach flipped over.

“What about?” She could hear the fear in her own voice. There was only one thing they could have been talking about, only one person. Had something happened to her father? Had he finally died in there? It was something that she’d thought of enough times that she couldn’t quite believe it now. But the look in Andromeda’s eyes seemed too fearful to speak only of death. “What’s happened?”

They both looked at each other for a long, tense moment before Andromeda finally spoke. Aurora was ready for them to tell them he’d died. She was expecting it. But Andromeda said, “Your father has escaped from Azkaban.”

Aurora’s stomach plummeted and shock froze her. “He’s WHAT?” Aurora stared at Andromeda. “HOW? It’s meant to be impossible to escape from there!”

“No one knows how he did it,” Andromeda told her. “The Aurors are already on the case, they’ve reacted quickly, I’m sure he’ll be caught soon.”

“That’s why Dora’s been called in?” She felt sick to her stomach. This was not good, not good at all. What if Dora got hurt by him? “But - but why’s he broken out?”

After what had happened with Quirrel, and the rumours last year, Aurora couldn’t help but feel terror at the thought of what Sirius Black was up to. Her father. Maybe her grandmother would have welcomed the thought of the Dark Lord rising again, but he had taken every possibility of a family from her. He’d killed her mother. His betrayal of the family had driven his parents and brother to their early graves. And if he was loose, what might he do if he found her? “We don’t know that either,” Andromeda said quietly. “But it isn’t for you to worry about, Aurora.”

“He’s my father,” she said. “What - what if he comes to find me?”

They both frowned. “Why would he do that?”

“Well, he’s - he's the reason my mother died, isn’t he? Because he turned Death Eater, what if he tries to-”

“He wouldn’t,” Andromeda said firmly. “He’s not going to do anything to hurt you, Aurora, you’re his daughter.”

“She was his wife!”

“You don’t need to worry,” Ted assured her. “He’s not coming to hurt you, and you are safe with us. We promise, we’ll look after you.”

She didn’t want to admit to being scared, but she was. She remembered Walburga saying Sirius was the worst thing to happen to the family, Arcturus refusing to speak of him, Lucretia calling him Blood Traitor and Death Eater and everything in between even if Aurora didn’t understand how he could be both. Even without a lord, he was dangerous. Even before he’d had one, he had turned his back on and destroyed his family. A murderer and a traitor.

But she didn’t want to think about any of that. It didn’t feel real, that her father had escaped from prison. It ought to have been impossible, and somehow this felt like more of a shock than any death because she could never have prepared for it and had never seen it coming. He had a life sentence. By all accounts, he should be dead or completely insane by now. And if he was insane, who was to say what he would do?

“Do you think I’ll still be able to go to the gala?” she asked, anything to distract from the idea she might get murdered by her father.

Andromeda blinked. “Well, I don’t see why not. The Parkinsons won’t rescind their invitation, it would be awful manners, and I’m sure they’ll have excellent security.” She smiled at Aurora gently. “No one’s going to hurt you. I promise.”

Dora didn’t get home until late that night. Aurora was meant to be in bed, but she couldn’t sleep until she heard her come back safe. “Dora?” she whispered, seeing her shadow by the door. “What’s happening?”

The door opened just a crack and Dora slipped inside, looking tired, which was a very odd look on her. “I’m not meant to tell anyone much,” she said. “But seeing as it’s you, I reckon you’ve got a right to know.” She nodded eagerly, though nervous for what Dora might say. “Fudge was in Azkaban a few days ago, just a routine observation. He said Black seemed completely normal, like he wasn’t affected by the Dementors at all. Apparently he was saying...” She trailed off. “He kept saying ‘he’s at Hogwarts’ over and over again.”

“He?” Aurora asked, perplexed. “Who?”

“Can’t you think of anyone?” She could. She very much could.

“You think he’s going after Harry Potter?”

“I think it’s a possibility,” Dora said. “And the Auror Department agreed. Of course, they’re not telling us much else, but we’ve had a whole training session about how to interact with Dementors and work with them to try and capture him.”

“But you will capture him, won’t you?”

“Course we will,” Dora said, though she wasn’t very convincing. “Well, not me personally, but the Aurors are brilliant. Don’t you worry about it.”

“Of course I’m going to worry about it,” Aurora said grumpily, and Dora grinned.

“Get some sleep. We can go out for a fly tomorrow, I’m not in until the afternoon since we were kept so late at night. They’re going to break the news in the Prophet tomorrow - and they’re putting it out in the Muggle press, too.”

“Really?” She supposed it made sense. They had to take this seriously. “I should write Gwen then, shouldn’t I?”

Dora nodded. “I think that’d be a good idea. It’s better she hears what’s happening from you, than if she’s confused and doesn’t know what’s going on. The Muggles aren’t going to be given the full picture, obviously.”

“Right.” She shut her eyes, frowning. “Thanks for telling me, Dora.”

“Course. Don’t tell Mum I’ve told you though, she says she thinks you’re scared enough.”

“I’m not scared,” Aurora said. Dora grinned at her.

“I know you aren’t, Aurora. Get some sleep.”

But she couldn’t sleep. She had few photographs of her father as he had been in his school days, and most had been kept so she could try and figure out what her mother had looked like, but the thought of that man now in his thirties, as a murderer and traitor fresh out of Azkaban, driven insane, chilled her to her very bones. There was a part of her that relished the idea of coming into contact with him, to make him pay for his betrayal of his family, but there was a larger part that was terrified he would kill her. Would a man like that show mercy for his daughter? She doubted it. Even if once he might have, he wouldn’t now.

She lay awake long into the night, worrying and wondering. When she finally got to sleep, it was a restless one, and her dreams were fitful whispers and hisses from her long-gone family. Traitor, murderer, Death Eater, weak, lunatic. Disgrace and scum. Unfit to bear the Black name. We do not speak of him. Do not ask questions about your father. Somewhere in the recesses of her memory or imagination, there was green light and screaming and a man laughing maniacally. She woke up feeling like she was falling. Like that green light had hit her.

Her fingers scrambled on her bedside table. She took one of the snake necklaces and held it tight to her chest. Claudius’ voice whispered, “The traitor will not hurt you,” but it still didn’t help her sleep again.


	34. The Gala

There was a week to go until the Parkinsons’ gala, and though Aurora was nervous that she wouldn’t get to go, or that something bad would happen - they still hadn’t caught her father, and Andromeda was clearly nervous - she couldn’t withhold her excitement about the event either. Dora wasn’t very interested in hairstyles and makeup, but Andromeda was, and seemed rather pleased to have someone to discuss fashion with, seeing as neither her daughter nor husband would.

Though she wasn’t getting out very much, Aurora had her run of the garden while Dora was at training and Andromeda at work. Ted usually kept an eye on her while working from the garden, but he trusted her not to fall off the broom and break her neck. She flew laps and went as high as she could without being spotted from the nearby Muggle village, chasing Stella who was running along the ground far below her. When she got as far as she thought was sensible to go, she turned and went into a steep, fast dive, hurrying towards the ground. She loved the feel of the bruising wind against her cheeks and the adrenaline coursing through her veins. This was what she missed out on when she stayed on the bench during matches and training.

Something moved in the trees next to her. She drew up sharply, as a massive black dog darted out in front of her. Heat racing, Aurora steadied herself and hovered not far above the dog. It turned its head up to face her, pale eyes glistening unnaturally. It showed no signs of moving, even when Stella hissed at it, and Aurora slowly made her descent down to the grass. Ted was on the other side of the garden and didn’t seem to have noticed, but she didn’t think the dog was going to hurt her, despite how terrifying it seemed at first.

It looked a bit like a Grim, she realised as she touched down, but knew it couldn’t be. Grims were meant to be bringers of death, but she didn’t see Death hanging anywhere around the dog’s shadow. Stella didn’t seem to like the dog though. Aurora encountered it warily, holding her broom tightly in one hand while she fingered her wand with the other. She narrowed her eyes at the dog, but it didn’t seem to want to do anything except stand there.

“Hello,” she said, regarding it carefully. Now she got a better look at it, the dog looked rather thin and bedraggled, like it had been starved for a very long time. A stray. How had it found her here? She couldn’t help but feel a little on edge. She partly wanted to try and pet it, but was sure it would give her fleas; she kept a wide berth.

The dog barked at her, eyes wide. They seemed to shine. “Are you lost?” she asked it quietly. The dog lowered its head, nose to the ground, and let out a low, almost sad, whine. “You’re a stray?”

Somehow she didn’t think Andromeda would take well to her trying to adopt a stray dog. Dora would think it was a laugh, though. But they didn’t have any food. What did dogs even eat? She imagined it was meat, and maybe similar to the food cats ate. “You stay here,” she told the dog. “Please. I’ll get you some food.”

The dog’s eyes seemed to light up as Aurora headed back inside, grabbing some of Stella’s cat food in a bowl upstairs - some dogs could eat cat food, right? - taking a banana from the kitchen and then getting another bowl for water. Dogs must need water, she thought, carrying the two bowls carefully across the garden towards where the dog still stood at the edge of the trees. Stella whined at her heels, seeming quite upset that her food was being used to feed a dog. “I know, Stella,” Aurora said clippedly. “But the poor thing’s starving. I’ll still always prefer cats.”

Stella didn’t seem impressed by this declaration, though. Aurora set the two bowls down carefully in front of the dog - though far enough away that she couldn’t catch anything its disgusting fur was carrying - who leapt on them quickly, and devoured the cat food. He must have been starving, Aurora thought. She unpeeled the banana and went to break it up, but the dog was eyeing it so hungrily that she lay it down and let him eat it himself. It was quite impressive: she had never seen a dog so well-trained and yet so utterly ravenous when eating. Stella meowed and gave the dog a superior sort of look.

While the dog lapped at the water, Aurora crept closer, but there was no collar or anything to tell her who the dog might belong to. It must have owners, to be so obedient, but whoever they were they didn’t seem to have done a good job taking care of it. She hoped no one had hurt the dog. It didn’t have any obvious signs of being hurt, but she didn’t really know what to look for. It was clear that it had been neglected.

Aurora knelt down to meet the dog’s eyes, and a chill went through her. “Would you like to come inside?” she said quietly. The dog considered her with sharp eyes, then shook its head. “No? Are you going to be an independent dog?” Stella hissed like she hoped the dog would be an independent dog, and bugger off so she didn’t have to share her food with him.

She expected the dog would leave in a minute now it had gotten what it wanted, but instead it reached out a paw and placed it gently on her knee. She stared at it, surprised, and rather inclined to pull away. She didn’t know why something was pulling in her chest. It was a dog, and a gross one at that.

“Alright,” she said crisply, moving the dog’s paw gently off of her. She still didn’t trust that it didn’t have fleas. “If you hang about, I can try and sneak you food from dinner.”

The dog looked tempted - not that she really thought it knew what she was saying - but shook its head. It licked the back of Aurora’s hand, much to her revulsion, let out a low whine, bowed its head and then sprinted away back into the trees. She watched it go, shrinking into the shadows. Stella hissed.

Aurora stared at the back ofher hand. “That is disgusting,” she said, feeling a desire to wash her hands until they were positively red and rid of the dog’s saliva. “We ought to get back inside then,” she told her cat, picking up the two emptied bowls and the banana peel. “And I need to wash my hand before I feed you. Come on, lovely.”

She couldn’t stop thinking of the dog, though. Those eyes were familiar. But that thought was ridiculous; she was just on edge and unnerved because of the recent news. Stray dogs probably came around here all the time looking for food. Right? But it creeped her out the ore she thought about it, and the more she thought about it the more she thought of how utterly foolish she was being.

She kept inside the house for the rest of the day, watching the window nervously, just in case. If she were to be rational, she told herself, she would know that she was just being overly paranoid. But if she couldn’t be paranoid now, when could she be?

She mentioned the dog to Dora after dinner, but she didn’t seem concerned. “We get strays coming round all the time,” she told her, “I think they’re attracted to the magic or something. Don’t worry about it Aurora. Stray dogs are not on our suspect list.”

The dog didn’t return the next day, to Aurora’s relief. That Saturday was the Parkinsons’ gala and Aurora had to make sure she was ready. Pansy said she could stay at the manor on the Friday and Saturday nights with her and the other girls, and Aurora couldn’t wait to see everyone again.

Andromeda Flooed her to the Parkinsons’ after dinner, which was a very awkward encounter given that, prior to marrying Ted and breaking from the family, Andromeda had been a good friend of Pansy’s mother. Now they didn’t speak except to exchange strained pleasantries, and Aurora was rather relieved when Pansy brought her upstairs. “Daphne and Astoria are already here, and we expect Millie and Lucille soon. Draco, Blaise and Theodore aren’t joining us until the morning, Mother said it wouldn’t be proper for them to stay the night.” She rolled her eyes and grinned. “I’m so glad you’re here, though! I read about your father in the paper, are you alright? Father said not to bother you about it, but I thought someone ought to ask you.”

Aurora looked away, trying to feign nonchalance. “I mean, it is rather frightening, but he isn’t my father, not really. It’s not like I ever knew him.”

“Yes, but it’s ever such a scandal! Mother fretted for days over your invitation, but of course I insisted you still had to come.”

“Oh.” Aurora didn’t really know what to say to that. She tossed her hair and put on an unbothered smile, hoping it looked genuine. “Well, I am awfully glad you invited me. I couldn’t have these dress robes go to waste.”

“Exactly!” Pansy grinned. “That’s precisely what I told Mother.”

Daphne was already there, combing the hair of a younger blonde haired girl who could surely only be Astoria, her little sister, who was due to start Hogwarts in September. Astoria’s eyes widened as she saw Aurora, but Daphne stopped her saying anything by letting out a loud squeal and hurrying over. “Aurora!”

“Hello, Daphne,” she said awkwardly as the other girl embraced her tightly. Aurora wasn’t totally sure how to reciprocate when her arms were basically pinned to her sides.

“Oh, I couldn’t believe it about your father, it’s so horrible? Are you worried? My father was shocked, no one ever escaped Azkaban - but you are alright, aren’t you? I didn’t know what to say in a letter and Mother told me I oughtn’t to write one to you, but I was shocked!”

“Oh,” Aurora said stiffly. “Well, I suppose I’m alright. I just hope they find him soon.”

“My father says he should never have been imprisoned in the first place,” Pansy said, shaking her head. “He said he was quite on the right side. Of course, this just goes to show how utterly incompetent the Ministry always has been.”

Aurora feigned a smile and squirmed out of Daphne’s grasp, desperate to change the subject. She turned to Astoria, Daphne’s little sister. “Hello, Astoria. It’s lovely to see you.”

“And you, Aurora,” Astoria said, in that perfectly polite way. Aurora recognised the way she was speaking. That tiny hint of fear, of wariness. She tried not to let her frustration show; she figured there would be a lot more of that at Hogwarts come September.

“Don’t be so stiff, Astoria,” Daphne huffed, playing with Aurora’s hair. “She’s excited to see Draco tomorrow,” she whispered conspiratorially, “she fancies him.”

“Daphne!” Astoria cried. “I do not!”

“Do you?” Pansy looked quite upset. “You’re far too young for him, Astoria.”

“Why’d you fancy Draco?” Aurora asked, wrinkling her nose.

“Aurora, don’t be so rude.”

“Don’t get me wrong, he’s still my best friend.” Astoria was a very bright red. Aurora took some pity on her. “He probably wouldn’t notice if you fancied him, he’s incredibly unobservant.” This didn’t seem to help at all. Aurora didn’t think talking about boys was her strongest talent. “But most boys are at this age.”

“I’ll tell him you said that about him!” Pansy said.

“I’ve told him as much myself,” Aurora laughed. “He won’t care.”

The girls were lovely and Aurora had a great time sharing the room with Pansy that night, as they gossiped about the Summer and gracefully avoided any talk of Aurora’s father. In the morning though, she was incredibly grateful to see Draco again. Regardless of whatever disagreements and differences they may have, he was her best friend, her family, and he always seemed to know the answers to what few questions she had. She had missed him.

He showed up just shortly after breakfast with his parents, all of them perfectly turned out. Narcissa looked absolutely stunning, Aurora thought, and she felt all of a sudden rather scruffy in her silver morning robes. “Ah, Lucius, Narcissa,” Pansy’s mother, Rosebelle, greeted with a warm smile. “We didn’t expect you to arrive so soon, it’s a lovely surprise.”

“Ah, Draco was so eager to see Pansy and the other girls again,” said Narcissa smoothly. She snuck Aurora a gentle smile over Rosebelle’s shoulder. “How are you all?”

“Very well, thank you,” Rosebelle said. “Of course, organising the gala has proven quite the task as it always does, but we manage. Draco, dear, would you like to go upstairs with the girls while the adults speak? You must all be back down here at noon, promptly.”

“Of course, Rosebelle,” Draco said smoothly, and he grinned at Aurora. “I’ve missed you all dearly.”

“Draco, come and help me with my dress and jewellery,” Pansy said, taking his arm immediately. “I wasn’t sure what you’d think of it.”

Draco looked at her weirdly. “What’s so special about your dress?”

Aurora laughed, taking his other arm. “Draco, you really are such a boy sometimes.”

“What does that mean?”

The girls only laughed. “Come on, we’ll get dressed and then we can talk. You look great.”

“Ugh, Mother chose my robes.” Draco looked down at himself in distain. “They’re far too frilly.”

“They’re fine,” Millicent said. “You’re all way too fussy about clothes.”

“Millicent wanted to wear grey,” Lucille giggled, and Aurora gave her an unimpressed look. She didn’t seem to care. “Can you imagine?”

Draco looked at Aurora as though to ask if that was bad or not. She just smiled. “I’m so glad to see you,” she said quietly. “I’ve missed you.”

“Me too,” he admitted. “I saw the news about your father. Mother and Father wouldn’t tell me much but... I hope you’re okay?” She knew that Draco, while physically affectionate, didn’t really know how to talk about emotions. But she appreciated that he’d tried; it meant more than any of the proper words.

“Yeah,” she told him, nudging him gently. “It’s just an awful lot to deal with, but I’ll be fine.”

“We’ll talk about it later,” Draco told her, for Pansy was trying to catch his attention, vying with Astoria. “You’ll dance with me, won’t you?”

“Well, I don’t know who else I’m meant to dance with, so yes.” She smirked at him. “But if you step on my toes, or my dress, I’ll murder you.”

Draco just laughed. She decided she really liked that about him. He didn’t care about her father - possibly because he was from the same Dark family - and he just saw her as Aurora, his best friend and cousin. She tried not to show her happiness too much. That would simply appear foolish.

Aurora was the first girl ready, mainly because she wanted to talk to Draco without being interrupted by the others. Pansy she trusted with her emotions, but she wasn’t sure Pansy would want to talk about them so much as Draco did. Besides, she’d been acting all funny and giggly around Draco all morning, and both of them thought it was weird.

“You look nice,” was all Draco said when Aurora came out of the room she shared with Pansy, smoothing down her skirts. The dress robes accentuated what few curves she had, pulled in at the waist so they flared out a little and gave her a gentle silhouette, in an elegant light blue. Honestly, she hadn’t thought the shade would suit her at first, but it did. In her hair she had some silver clips, and the sapphire necklace with Cyphus the snake pendant on it. Her wrist was adorned with various delicate silver and diamond bracelets, and from her ears dangled silver earrings. She wore no rings except for the family ring, but figured she had enough jewellery.

She smiled at Draco haughtily, trying not to laugh. “You’re very complimentary.”

Draco seemed not to know what else to say. “Well, you’re pretty? I don’t know, Aurora!”

She laughed. “Just be nicer to Pansy. You didn’t sound sincere.”

“I do mean it!” he insisted, cheeks growing red. “Really!”

“Leave it, Draco,” Aurora giggled. “I really don’t care what you think of my appearance.”

Draco seemed to sigh in relief. “I thought you were being serious,” he mumbled. Aurora smiled tensely, eyes turning down. “So... Are you okay?”

“And what do you mean by okay?”

“Well, are you scared?”

“Of course I’m not scared,” she snapped. It wasn’t totally true, though.

“My dad told me everything,” Draco admitted. “I didn’t know your father was the one who actually betrayed the Potters to the Dark Lord.”

She glared furiously at the floor, as Draco guided her to sit down. “Dora thinks he’s broken out to go after him. Potter, I mean.”

“Well, maybe he’ll do us all a favour and knock him off.”

“Draco!” Aurora scolded. “Don’t. I don’t actually want Potter to die, least of all because of my father.”

“You had no problem poisoning him.”

“That was intentionally non-fatal and you know it, Draco. And you swore you wouldn’t tell.”

He smirked, and put an arm stiffly around her shoulders. She tried not to laugh. “I get if you feel awkward about it, but I don’t care. You’re just Aurora.”

“Just Aurora, gee, thanks, Draco.”

“Oh, you know what I mean! I know it’s an awful scandal right now, and Mother is terribly upset about it - he was her cousin, after all - but it will blow over and I’m sure they’ll capture him.”

“I’m sure they will.” She pursed her lips. She probably shouldn’t be saying this, but it was only Draco. If she couldn’t talk to him then who could she talk to? “They might give him the Dementor’s Kiss, Draco. Suck out his soul.” He shivered. “It sounds terrible, but I can’t say I don’t think he deserves it.”

“I can’t imagine it,” Draco said quietly. “The Dementors are meant to be horrible.” He shivered a little. “I’m glad Father...” He sucked in a nervous breath. “What do you want then?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “It’s not that I’m scared of him. Because I’m not.” Well, maybe only a little. “But I just don’t want to be like him. And this has reminded half the world that he’s a murderer and half of them that he’s a blood traitor and it’s reminded everyone that I’m his daughter and they should hate me.”

“Well, I don’t hate you,” Draco said, like it was the simplest thing in the world. “And I know you’re not a blood traitor. Or a murderer.”

“I know that,” she sighed. “But not everyone does. And people will just believe what they want to believe.” Her eyes turned to her hands, clasped nervously in her lap. “People always judge me based on him. Even if they don’t say it, I know they do. They pick a side of him to hate and then they hate me for it too.”

Draco looked like he was trying to reconcile something in his head. Finally, after a moment of silence, he spoke. “Are you going to go after him?”

She looked down at her hands. “I don’t know. I kind of want to, but I know it would be foolish of me. And I don’t exactly want to give him the chance to kill me like he killed... Well, everyone else.” She swallowed thickly with a horrid lump in her throat. “But he betrayed his family. So I won’t go after him but if he shows himself to me, if he tries to hurt me... I don’t know what I might do.”

Her friend looked briefly shocked, but nodded. “Right.”

“Do you think I’m being ridiculous? He betrayed his family, yes, but he chose the right side in the end, didn’t he? It was the losing side but it was - I suppose...” She didn’t know how to say it. How to admit to the air that the Death Eaters were her family’s side, when she wouldn’t say that they were necessarily hers, too. “I hate every part of him, not just the traitor but the murderer. But I keep thinking, it’s not like he’s the only Death Eater in the world. It’s just that he got caught.” That he murdered a dozen Muggles and laughed.

“What are you trying to say?” Draco asked and she laughed drily.

“I don’t even know, Draco. I guess I just wish none of this happened. I wish I had nothing to do with him, he didn’t exist.” She looked down, and her heart felt heavy. “Is that a bad thing?”

Draco took a moment to reply. “I don’t think so. He chose the right side in the end, but he was also a blood traitor. I know you’ve never liked him.”

“How could I?”

“Yeah.” He smiled wryly. “It’ll be alright, Aurora.”

“Do you think Potter knows?” she asked before she could stop herself.

“Who cares?” He looked at her. “No really, Aurora. He doesn’t like you anyway, it won’t make any difference. Potter’s a prick, he hates us all. There’s no point being guilty about it. It’s not like you even had anything to do with it.”

“Someone must tell him at some point,” she mused.

“Yeah, probably Dumbledore. He’ll give him fifty points for the trouble.” Aurora cracked a grin at that. “Seriously, don’t worry about Potter of all people. I’ll make sure none of them give you any trouble over it.” He took her hand. “Family looks after family, right?”

She was at once incredibly grateful to have him as family. Aurora couldn’t help herself from smiling. “Thank you. Seriously, Draco. I - I know I’m not really the best at showing... affection or whatever you want to call it, but I do love you. You’re my best friend, and I - just, thanks. For being here. On my side.”

He smiled at her like it was easy. “Well, obviously.”

She couldn’t restrain her own smile at that. Tears pricked her eyes, and she tried to hide it but was sure Draco noticed. “Promise me you won’t tell anyone about this? I don’t want anyone to think I’m bothered by it. I don’t want to make a fuss.”

“I won’t,” Draco said, with a faint smile. “Promise.”

They were halfway to a hug when the door opened again and Pansy came waltzing out in frilly pink dress robes. “Draco, how do I look?”

Aurora gave him a significant look. “You look gorgeous,” he said stiffly, and she had to look away to hide her laughter.

Pansy seemed pleased though. She came over and cooed over Draco, telling him and Aurora how utterly excited she was for the day ahead. It didn’t escape Aurora how she placed herself between them, which was entirely ridiculous and infuriating. There was nothing about Aurora that Draco didn’t see in Pansy, but as much as she loved her friend, Aurora wished she wasn’t there. She’d wanted to sit with Draco a little while longer; she didn’t think she could talk to anyone else about this.

The other girls came out shortly after, and all of them looked stunning. Millicent blushed when Aurora told her so. “You really think I look alright?” she asked, tucking hair behind her ear. “Lucille said it didn’t look right anymore.”

“Lucille doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” Aurora said firmly, taking Millicent’s hand. “I think you look absolutely gorgeous.”

Millicent went bright red, but looked very pleased as they went down the stairs together.

There were an awful lot of people for her to meet and talk to, and all of them spoke about nonsense that Aurora only half understood. She mainly stuck to Draco, Pansy and Millicent. The Malfoys were good about introducing her to people, with the firm look in their eyes that said they were in no way to equate her to her recently escaped murderer of a father. She appreciated that about them all, even Lucius.

When the time came for the meal, Aurora wound up sitting with Millicent’s family at one of the tables far away from the Parkinsons, who dined with multiple people Aurora recognised as being from the Ministry - Orcus Selwyn, Savar MacNair, Dolores Umbridge - as well as the Malfoys and the Greengrasses. Millicent’s parents and sister were pleasant enough, but Aurora couldn’t help feeling envious seeing Pansy seated next to Narcissa and across from Draco, laughing with them like she was the family rather than Aurora. It was a foolish thing to envy. Aurora knew where she stood. Or at least, she had. Now her father had broken out and reminded the world of the stains on the Black name... She was on uneven ground.

And she realised as she ate, that the restoration of the Black family name relied on her now. It was something that had semi-occurred to her before but never truly hit her in the way that it did now. She was the last of the true Blacks, for all intents and purposes. She disowned her father as all those before her had done.

She made polite conversation with the Bulstrodes, and the Flints, who also sat at their table. She learned that Julius Flint was Marcus Flint’s uncle, and that he had several close contacts within the Quidditch League and the Ministry Department of Sports and Games, as a personal friend of Ludo Bagman. That set everyone off in a very excited conversation about the upcoming Quidditch World Cup.

“Of course, we’ll all be cheering for England,” Millicent’s mother, Andrea, said, looking around the table as though to catch someone out for not fully backing their team.

Aurora nodded earnestly. “Oh, of course. Still, I wouldn’t mind terribly if Wales or Scotland won, but we all know how likely that is.” Everyone around the table laughed, and she smiled. “So long as America aren’t the winners.”

That got an even larger laugh, particularly from Julius Flint, who went red in the face and had to gulp down more wine, though Aurora thought water would have done the trick and the wine was likely half the problem. She wasn’t much a fan of the weak white wine that she and Millicent had been served, though she suspected the appreciation for it would come with age and maturity.

After they had finished all seven courses and the plates were vanished to the kitchens, they were free to mingle as they saw fit. Millicent and Aurora slipped away from the adults, making a beeline for Daphne, Lucille, and Astoria, who were loitering by the edge of the garden walls, where pale blue and purple fairy lights had been strung up with real fairies dancing inside.

“Ah, there you two are,” Lucille said by way of greeting. “We thought Millicent might have gotten lost in the puddings.”

Millicent shifted uncomfortably and Aurora stepped forward. “No, we were just chatting to the Flints - Marcus’ cousins. It was rather fun. More fun than the conversation at your table looked at any rate.”

Lucille’s face turned stony at the sly insult, and Aurora grinned over at Daphne, who appeared amused. “Now you’re here,” Daphne said, slipping her arm through Aurora’s, “I wanted to dance.”

“Oh, and are you asking me?” Aurora said, feigning embarrassment. “Why, I’m all a flutter, Daphne.”

But they’d barely reached the patio where people were dancing when Draco arrived, beaming. “My mother wants to introduce you to some people,” he told Aurora happily, “while father’s speaking to some Ministry people.”

Aurora looked back at Daphne, who had put her hand over her chest in a mockery of heartbreak. “Another time, Greengrass, another time.”

Millicent, Daphne and Lucille all laughed, but Astoria seemed too overcome at the sight of Draco to do so. Smiling, Aurora took his arm and headed out into the crowd of people.

“Well,” he said, “how were the Bulstrodes and the Flints? I told Father we should put our foot down and tell the Parkinsons you were to sit with us as family, but he said it was tricky to navigate.” He rolled his eyes. “He’s negotiating something or other with Pansy’s father, I don’t know what, but Mother isn’t too happy about it.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about,” Aurora told Draco.

“Yeah. Probably.” He shook his head as they approached Narcissa, who was in conversation with a tall, stern-looking, grey-haired witch who reminded Aurora a little of Professor McGonagall. “Mother, here she is.”

“Ah, Aurora.” Narcissa broke into a stunning smile and moved to kiss her cheek. “Marie, this is my cousin, Aurora Black. She’s in Draco and Pansy’s year at Hogwarts. Aurora, this is Marie Jasper. I believe you may have heard of her.”

A thrill of excitement went through Aurora that she tried to hide. Marie Jasper was a well renowned Artihmancer - her book about sacred numbers had been one of the most informative Aurora had read on the field. “How do you do, Ms Jasper?” she said, slightly breathlessly, putting on a bright smile as she dipped her head. “I’m a massive fan of your writing.”

Marie, who had at first appeared slightly alarmed by Aurora’s introduction, broke into a smile. “Is that so? Do you study Arithmancy at Hogwarts?”

“Oh, not yet - I’m just about to start third year, we start our first Arithmancy classes this September - but I’ve always had an interest in it, it’s so fascinating what numbers can reveal.”

“Indeed.” Marie Jasper’s eyes glimmered and Draco gave Aurora a knowing, slightly teasing look. Narcissa looked rather pleased with herself as Aurora started up a friendly - and possibly a little rambly - conversation about Arithmancy.

The evening was a whirl of people and names, and Aurora tried her hardest not to trip over her words. Often, when she was introduced to someone, they would do a double take, or else eye her warily. This happened most often when she met someone from the Ministry. One Dolores Umbridge - allegedly a relative of Orcus Selwyn, who did not once deign to confirm this - looked at her like she was positive vermin until Lucius arrived and pointedly included Aurora in his greeting to his ‘family’. At that point, Umbridge turned horribly sweet and swept Lucius and Narcissa into a political discussion while Aurora and Draco slipped off to where their friends were dancing. The girls had been joined by Theodore and Blaise, but Pansy squealed when she saw Draco and swept him into a dance immediately, leaving Aurora stranded.

She looked around for a moment, wondering if there was anyone else she knew who might dance, when there was a warm hand in hers. She turned sharply, about to wrench it away, only to see Theodore Nott grinning at her. “Draco said you dance?”

“Oh.” Not used to having someone’s hand in hers, Aurora’s nod was unusually clumsy. “I did ballet when I was younger, not so much now. The Hogwarts dorms don’t exactly leave much room for a grande allegro.”

He chuckled, and there was a faint blush ove r his cheeks. Aurora didn’t know quite what to do with that realisation. “Well, I’m not asking for a grande allegro, but... Do you want to dance? With me?”

She tried not to laugh at his nerves. “Yes, I suppose so, just please don’t tread on my toes.”

“Noted,” said Theodore, and pulled her into their little knot of people - Draco dancing with Pansy, Daphne with Blaise, Millicent with Gregory, and Lucille with a Flint boy from the year above theirs - as the music picked up.

The familiar movements of dance - turning, rising, arms tracing through the air - felt so natural and so soothing that Aurora wondered why she’d ever stopped dancing. And having a partner felt even nicer. She felt light, but more than that, this all felt familiar. Even with Theodore, she felt herself falling into patterns: pointed feet, delicate fingers, curved arms, relaxed shoulders, tilted chin, hips turned out. And it felt nice, that structured familiarity.

Theodore spun her, grinning, and then she was released to be caught between Draco and Daphne, both grinning. For a few moments that night she could forget about her father, and fall back into the things she knew and understood. She only wished it could remain that way forever.


	35. Dementor

When Gwen arrived to stay the night before September the First, Aurora had never been more glad to see her. They were quick to get the adults talking so that they could run upstairs to Aurora’s room and she could tell her everything that had been bothering her for the month since her father escaped from prison.

“So you think he’s after Potter?” Gwen asked when Aurora was done, clasping her hands to her mouth. “Really?”

“I don’t know. Dora does, and considering he killed his mother and father, he might be.” She looked down. “Did I ever tell you he’s the reason my mother died?”

Gwen gave her a long and searching look. “No.”

“Yeah. It was only a few months before the end of the war. But he was scared, I guess, and he wanted to change sides. His brother died - my Uncle Regulus - and the Dark Lord wanted a Black son to replace him. My father did it, even though the family still hated him, and they still do.” Her grandmother had hated him until her dying breath. “I guess my mother found out he was the spy. He led Death Eaters to our house before she could tell anyone, and they killed her. Made it look like an ambush. They killed her whole family - my whole family, just for good measure. I don’t know why they never killed me. I suppose my father wanted to save my life.” She shrugged, not meeting Gwen’s eyes. “I hate him.”

“But he won’t hurt you, will he?” Gwen’s wide eyes darted nervously around the room. “You don’t think he might... Come looking for you? At Hogwarts? I mean, you’re his daughter.”

“He’s been in Azkaban twelve years, Gwen. That place is meant to drive people insane. He might not even remember me.”

She wasn’t sure if she would be comforted by the thought that he might. It would provide even more reason for him to go after her. “But - I mean, you don’t think... If he comes for you, what will he do if he gets to the dorms?”

Aurora stared at her. “I’m sure it won’t come to that. I’ll be fine.”

“But what about the rest of us?” Gwen looked horrified. “Say he comes after you, but someone gets in his way? Like me!” She paled considerably and Aurora had no idea what to say.

“Well... I don’t know! But he won’t get into the castle, I’m sure.” She winced.

“But he supported that man. Voldemort! And he’s meant to hate muggleborns like me. He’s a murderer!” Her eyes were wide and for the first time since first year, she was giving Aurora that uncomfortable look, like she was again a threat.

“He won’t hurt you,” Aurora said, not looking at her. “I’m the one who needs to worry.”

“But...” Gwen seemed to be flailing for her words and there was an uncomfortable feeling that settled in Aurora’s stomach. “He’s a murderer.”

“Yes, I think we established that, Gwendolyn.”

“What’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong?” Aurora turned to stare at her. Was she being serious? “Really?”

Gwendolyn winced. “I’m sorry. I know you must be scared.”

“I’m not scared,” Aurora ground out.

“Right. Well... I am.”

“Good for you,” she said coolly.

Silence fell in the room for a moment. Aurora found herself fidgeting with her family ring, and snatched her fingers away, glaring at the floor. “He um... You said he, that your family all hate him... Do you want to talk about this?”

“No.”

“Right. I just think that, if he’s out there, then we need to take extra precautions.”

“I’m sure Hogwarts is taking plenty of precautions,” Aurora said stiffly. “The Aurors are convinced he’s after Potter, and Dumbledore simply loves him.”

“And you?”

“Yeah, Dumbledore loves me.”

“No, but they must think you’re in danger, too.”

“They do.” Aurora couldn’t even look at Gwen. Why did she think she had to talk about this with her? “Look, I’ve already had a whole conversation with Draco about this. I don’t need to talk about it with you.”

“But...” Gwen sat down next to Aurora with a confused sort of sigh. “I’m your friend.”

“Yeah. And I understand you’re worried because we share a room and if I’m dancer you are too, but I’m sure we’ll be protected. I just don’t want to talk about it.”

“You said you spoke to Draco Malfoy, though,” Gwen pointed out.

“I did.” Gwen pursed he rlips. “What?”

“Well, then why can’t you talk to me-”

“Because I don’t want to, Gwen,” she snapped. “I can talk to Draco because he’s basically my brother and he understands more of this. Pureblood society and-”

“Oh, so this is a blood thing?” Gwen asked, voice colder than normal.

Now it Aurora’s turn to stare at her. “What?”

“I wouldn’t understand,” Gwen said slowly. “Because I’m not a pureblood.”

“No. No, that’s not what I meant, it’s just... Draco is my best friend, and I worded that badly-”

“It’s fine,” Gwen said shortly, standing up. “I get it. We shouldn’t argue. I should say goodbye to my mum again before she leaves.”

She hurried down the stairs and Aurora was left to stare at her, immobilised for a moment before she followed, just in time to see Gwen and her mother hug and exchange a sweet goodbye. A strange pang went through her and she glanced away, grinning falsely at Dora, who eyed her with confusion. Aurora just shook her head and folded her arms, waiting.

When they got back upstairs for bed, Gwen changed the subject determinedly to school gossip, asking about the gala and giggling over stories about the week she’d spent with Robin, with little need for Aurora’s input. And despite the nerves in her stomach and confusion in her head - how had that turned into an almost-argument and why couldn’t Gwen just say what she clearly wanted to say? - she was comforted when she went to sleep by her roommate’s familiar snoring.

They were prompt as always when they arrived at King’s Cross station in the morning, hauling trunks onto the train with Ted and Dora’s assistance. “Write us every week,” Ted reminded Aurora. “And be careful.”

He hugged her tightly, which was unexpected, but Aurora found that she didn’t mind it all that much. “I will, Ted. Promise.” She grinned at Dora. “Good luck with training.”

“We have stealth this afternoon,” Dora said with a grimace. “I’ll need it.”

They hugged, too, and then Aurora and Gwen went to find a compartment on the train. Robin was already seated in one on his own, so they ducked inside, Gwen beaming, while Aurora merely offered him a short wave.

“Morning, Oliphant.”

“Black.” Robin grinned as he hugged Gwen, greeting her. He held his hand up to Aurora, who after a few seconds of confusion, hit it feebly. He grinned further and sat down.

“Done your homework yet?”

He looked at her darkly, and held up a piece of parchment. “Does it look like it? This is for McGonagall. She’s going to kill me, I completely forgot.”

Aurora laughed half-heartedly. “Good luck with that, Oliphant.”

“I’m sure we can give you a hand,” Gwen said enthusiastically. “Can’t we, Aurora?”

“I’m not letting him copy,” Aurora said, and pointedly took out Numerology and Grammatica to read it for the fifth time.

Gwen just rolled her eyes. She worked with Robin on his homework, while Aurora flickered between her Arithmancy and Ancient Runes notes in an effort to distract from them, trying to find any similarities that she could use to tie the subjects together. It was important, in her view, to understand how different branches of magic interacted, in order to get a better idea of how it worked as a whole.

The other two both seemed confused by her actions, but didn’t press. While both intelligent, neither were quite as academically ambitious as Aurora herself was, and didn’t see the purpose in studying before term even started. As proven by Robin’s failure to complete his Transfiguration homework. The train rattled on and Aurora turned to reading Great Expectations, one of the books Gwen had given her last year; she watched with silent approval at the choice.

A few hours in to the journey, the train groaned suddenly and lurched to a stop. The lights above them flickered and then went out, and Aurora shivered as a sudden draught came through the compartment. “What’s going on?” Gwen whispered. “Why’ve we stopped, we can’t be there yet.”

“I don’t know,” Aurora said, the chill creeping over her. There was a cold sound like the wind rattling through the aisle.

“Looks like everyone else’s lights have gone out too,” Robin said, voice grim. He shuffled closer to Aurora, and the three of them pressed together, huddling for a bit of warmth.

“I don’t like this,” Aurora said decisively. There was a sliding sound like the train doors opening. Someone had come on board. Her father? Could Sirius Black have found a way to board the train? Of course not, she told herself with a sick feeling in her stomach. That would be ridiculous.

“Can you see anything?” Gwen asked. She was holding Aurora’s arm tightly, and her voice wobbled with fear.

“No more than you can,” Aurora replied. She got shakily to her feet. “There are people moving about, I want to know what’s going on.”

She barely made it to the door when Stella hissed loudly and made a run towards her, scrabbling at the leg. “Ow!” she yelled as she thrust the door open and shook Stella off. “What’d you do that for, Stels?”

“What’s going on?” yelled a voice from the other side of the train. It sounded very distant.

A cold wind rippled through the corridor and then something dark and hooded came into the edge of Aurora’s vision. The cold chill that she’d felt earlier increased, gripping her around the chest. She felt like she was going to pass out, swaying on the spot as her vision dimmed. Aurora grabbed ahold of the edge of the door. Gwen’s voice was oddly distorted as she asked, “Aurora? Aurora, what’s happening? Are you okay?”

She knew these things. Dementors. The kind that guarded Azkaban, they were looking for her father and now they’d found her. There were three of them that she could make out. Two glided down the corridor but one stopped before her, reaching out a blackened and twisted sort of hand, and touched her cheek.

She gasped, throat tightening. There was a ringing in her ears and then memories flashed through her head; her grandmother’s funeral in the dark and grey and rain; holding Arcturus’ hand and trying her very hardest not to cry as he went cold and still; at Lucretia and Ignatius’ funeral, sitting all alone beneath a tree when Death came for her; first year, when she’d looked over at Potter and been sure that he was going to die and that it was all her fault; and then the ringing of a woman’s voice, screaming. “Sirius, no! They’ll kill her, Sirius, please! Please, stop! Stop!”

A flash of green light and she snapped out of it suddenly, trying to focus on the compartment in front of her, but voices echoed in her head, whispers of the the dead. She was shaking and she couldn’t stop it. Tears brimmed in her eyes, threatening to fall, and she had to hide her face so that neither Gwen nor Robin saw. Her whole body felt cold, and she couldn’t get any of those memories out of her head. So many deaths, all of them too early for her to handle. And that last one. She couldn’t quite remember that voice but she knew it somewhere within her soul. Her mother. Dread swelled inside her chest.

Someone else stumbled into their dark compartment, Astoria Greengrass’ voice calling out, “What’s happening?” and Aurora’s trembling hands reached out to tug her inside.

“Its just Aurora,” she said quickly, as Astoria shrieked.

“Your hands are freezing!” she complained. “Where’s Daphne, I want-”

And then a shadow of something passed in front of the door. A woman screamed somewhere in Aurora’s distant memory, and terror gripped her. She buried her head on her knees, but it couldn’t stop her shaking. That woman was dying and it was her mother, and her father had led her to her death. Even Arcturus’ soft whisper, “Don’t cry,” didn’t soothe her when the sound of that scream sent such pain and instinctual terror through her.

She barely noticed the silver streak racing past, fending off the darkness, and she still felt cold and exhausted as the lights came back on and the train rattled. Gwen was saying something to Astoria, who left quickly, hurrying down the corridor. Gwen put an arm around Aurora’s shoulders but she shook it off, tensing. “I’m fine,” she muttered, trying to stand up. Her legs trembled and she felt she was going to be sick as she swayed.

Robin grabbed her right before she could fall and Gwen pushed her to sit down again. “Merlin, Aurora, you’re white as a sheet!”

“It’s fine,” she said, though she couldn’t shake the feeling of dread and intense terror that told her nothing, absolutely nothing in the world, was fine. “Just feel a little bit shit.”

Gwen laughed. It felt wrong to her ears.

“At least you can still swear,” Robin said.

She shook her head, putting her head between her knees and trying to breathe deeply so as not to pass out. She felt ridiculous like this. Gwen and Robin were both pale, and looked scared, but they didn’t look as wretched as she felt.

“Where did the Dementor go?”

Robin shuddered. “I don’t know. There was this weird silver light that sort of chased it down the corridor, came from that way. We sent that girl to find a prefect.”

“Right.” She swallowed. “Well, it’s fine. I think I should go and find Draco, see if he’s alright.”

But she was no sooner standing up and shaking again, when a worried-looking man dressed in shabby robes. He looked vaguely familiar, but Aurora didn’t know where from. “Who’s this?” she asked Astoria, who looked frightened.

“This is Professor Lupin,” Astoria told her quickly, looking along the corridor, like she was trying to spot her sister.

“Go find Daphne,” Aurora said, avoiding Lupin’s gaze; he was looking at her like she was a curiosity in a museum, and it set her on edge. “She’ll be worried about you.”

Astoria didn’t need another second before she scurried off and the professor stepped inside.

“Aurora Black, is it?” he asked. She nodded. “You’re very pale.” He reached into his pocket and brought out a bar of chocolate, breaking off a piece. “Here. You’ll feel better for some chocolate.”

She went red as she took the bit of chocolate. “Thanks,” she mumbled. She immediately felt better when she ate, and warmth settled in her chest. There was a question on the tip of her tongue, but she daren’t ask. Instead, because everyone was looking at her, she asked, “Are you the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher then?”

He looked surprised by her choice of question, but nodded. “Indeed I am. I suspect I’ll be seeing you all in my class soon.”

“Do you know what those things were then?” Gwen asked him curiously.

Lupin looked awkward, but Aurora answered for him. “Those were Dementors, Gwen. I told you.” She looked down and swallowed tightly. Her cheeks were burning.

“Yeah, but what-”

“They guard Azkaban, remember?”

“Oh,” Gwen said softly. “They’re horrible. They have those there all the time?”

“Yeah.” Aurora took another bite of chocolate so as to avoid saying anything. Gwen was looking at her with a frightened sort of pity that made Aurora want to scream in frustration. She didn’t want her pity. She didn’t want anyone’s pity. “I think I’ll be alright now, Professor,” she said, glancing up. “Thank you.”

He smiled like he was thinking about something. Aurora was sure she recognised him from somewhere. “You’re very welcome, Miss Black. I have to speak to the driver up front. Excuse me.”

Lupin dipped his head and left, closing the door behind him.

“You’re still shaking, Aurora.”

“I’m fine,” she said. “I will be, anyway. Those things really were ghastly, I don’t know why they were on the train.” She had an idea of why though. Why they’d gone for her. But she hadn’t done anything - none of this was her fault.

Her mind went back to the voice she’d heard. Screaming for Sirius - for Aurora’s father - to stop, because they, someone, was going to kill Aurora. And she didn’t know, but she had a feeling that it was her mother’s voice, and from the sound of an explosion, and the terror in her voice, Aurora was sure that had been how she died. Her eyes burned with tears, and her cheeks burned with embarrassment that she might cry in front of Gwen and Robin.

“Yes, but... I thought you were going to faint, Aurora. Those things were horrible, but - you seemed to really take badly to them.”

“That’s fantastic,” she snapped. “How come you’re okay?”

“I don’t know,” Robin said, looking startled. “It felt horrible though. I was so cold, I was shaking, wasn’t I, Gwen? It felt like I’d never be happy again.”

Aurora sat back, watching the rain against the window as the train rattled on again. “They’re looking for my father,” she said without looking at either of them. “That’s why they came on the train.”

“They really think he’d come on here while all the students are together?”

“Seemingly so.” She sighed. “Did either of you two hear anything?”

“Hear anything?” Gwen asked. “Like what?”

“I didn’t think so.”

“Did you hear something?” Robin asked, and she nodded. “What?”

“I’m not sure. Merlin, do either of you feel tired now? I could sleep for a week.”

She didn’t sleep, though. The other two kept up a quiet and gentle chatter as the train kept on its journey towards Hogsmeade. Eventually, she made her way out the compartment in search of Draco and the others, unable to bear the stifling atmosphere inside.

She found them swiftly, and Millicent beamed as she came through the door, hurrying to hug her tightly. “Aurora! I wondered where you were, we were all worried!”

“Oh?”

“The Dementors,” Daphne said with a shudder. “They were horrid, Astoria’s told me all about them. Are you alright?”

“Oh. Well...”

“Stop hassling her,” Pansy said sharply, tugging Aurora’s hand so she’d sit beside her. “I thought you were going to be stuck holed up with Tearston and Oliphant forever.”

She laughed tightly and Draco gave her a curious look from the other side of Pansy. “They’re not so bad,” she said. “But I need a break.” Theodore gave her a sympathetic look over the top of his book.

When they at last came to a stop at Hogsmeade Station, it was dark outside, and Aurora had to hold Stella very tightly to stop her from running around and going missing in the darkness.

The skeletal horses that drew the carriages whinnied as Aurora came nearer, one of them peering at her with haunting amethyst eyes. She stroked its neck gently, as Pansy and Daphne climbed into the carriage. “Come on,” Pansy said, shivering. “The sooner we get up to school, the better.”

She nodded, and hurried into the carriage, joined by Millicent and Lucille, while the boys went on ahead. Theodore ran up to them just as the carriage was about to depart, looking harassed. “My brother’s just been talking my ear off about how excited he is to go on the boats and then he almost missed it,” he said in one breath, shaking his head and sitting down by Aurora just as the carriage started rumbling away. “Idiot.”

“He didn’t have a run-in with the Dementors, did he?” Daphne asked. “Only Astoria said a few of the first years got in their way - wherever it was they were headed.”

“No, he’s alright. He was a bit spooked hearing about it but he wasn’t anywhere close by and he knows how to deal with them, of course.” His face fell into a grim frown and he looked away. Aurora was reminded again that she was not in a wholly unique position. Though he had never escaped, Theo’s father was in Azkaban too, as a Death Eater, and Theo had been raised by his mother and grandfather. She didn’t know if he’d ever met his father, and all of a sudden she felt terrible that it had never occurred to her to ask.

“Longbottom said Potter fainted,” Pansy said, laughing, and Aurora blinked, distracted out of her thoughts. “Actually fainted!”

Aurora looked away uncomfortably and laughed mockingly, though she didn’t think it was too convincing. The carriage started to rattle on, the horses taking them at a gentle pace as they glided through the night. Aurora held Stella closer to her chest, grateful for the extra warmth. Even though it was only September, it could have been Winter from the cold of the air. The cold seemed to press in around them. She wouldn’t have been surprised if there were Dementors nearby that she just couldn’t make out because of the darkness.

The carriage ride was unusually awkward, mainly because Aurora didn’t know what to say to anyone and Theodore kept giving her curious glances from behind a book. She was altogether rather relieved when they got out of the carriages after the school gates, even though the Dementors’ chill still seeped through her. Draco was only a few carriages along, and Aurora and Pansy were about to join him and the others when she heard him calling Potter’s name. Ordinarily she would have joined in, but given recent events she would rather just ignore Potter’s existence altogether this year, and made to go around them with Theo.

“Is Longbottom telling the truth?” Draco was yelling at Potter. “You actually fainted?”

“Shove off, Malfoy,” Weasley said tightly. He already looked wound up. Aurora wouldn’t like to get on his bad side any more than she already had.

“Did you faint too, Weasley? Did the scary big Dementor frighten you too?” Draco taunted as Aurora and the others caught up to him. He smirked in her direction as though she ought to be impressed.

“Leave them, Draco,” she murmured, and then said louder, “I’m starving.”

She saw Professor Lupin watching her carefully as she tugged Draco away, forming their little group of Slytherins again. Theodore slipped to the back, talking lowly to Millicent, while Aurora and Draco led the way for the others. “Will you at least try and stop taunting Potter so much?” she whispered to Draco.

“Oh, but it’s so fun, Aurora.”

She rolled her eyes. “I know that, but I just don’t want to draw his attention this year. It’s bad enough with my father having broken out.”

“You’re not going to make Potter like you by ignoring him,” Draco told her.

“I don’t want him to like me, I just don’t want to get into a fight. If he knows what my father did, who knows what he’ll do if I give him the excuse to go after me.”

“You’re not scared of Potter?” Draco laughed loudly. “Stop feeling all guilty, Aurora. If he does come after you, you know you’re a better dueller. You proved that last year, didn’t put?”

“I suppose,” she said. Aurora didn’t want to admit that she did feel guilty, because she knew herself that it was foolish. And besides, she doubted sincerely that Potter would feel guilty for anything that had happened to her or her family. “Did you lot actually see the Dementors then?”

“Oh, yes.” Draco did seem to have paled a little. “It was really rather horrid.” He glanced sideways at Aurora. “Don’t tell anyone, but I felt a little sick, too.”

She smiled wanly. “Yeah. I didn’t like them one bit. That Professor was good - the new one, Lupin. He came and gave us chocolate, and it did actually help to make us feel better.”

“So we’ve finally got a competent teacher,” Draco said with a sniff.

“Perhaps,” Aurora said. “But I wouldn’t speak too soon, we still haven’t had a class with him yet.”

Aurora couldn’t wait to get into the Great Hall and watch the Sorting Ceremony. In addition to Daphne’s sister Astoria, Wilfred Nott - Theodore’s little brother - and Lucia Selwyn were due to join the first year ranks this year, and she wanted to see them getting Sorted into Slytherin. But she’d barely gotten to the doors when Professor McGonagall was calling her name over the crowd of students.

“Yes, you, Miss Black, over here, I haven’t got all day.”

Aurora scowled as she made her goodbyes to her friends and hurried over to McGonagall. “Good evening, Professor. Is everything alright?”

“Professor Lupin alerted me to the incident on the train, and as your own Head of House appears to have preoccupied himself-” her lips twisted in irritation “-as Deputy Headmistress, I ought to deal with the situation. Ah, Potter, Granger! The two of you over here, too!”

Her plan to ignore Potter was going swimmingly, then. Neither of the Gryffindors looked pleased that they were being made to join Aurora. Granger looked a little nervous - not helped, Aurora was sure, by her determined scowl - while Potter was outright glaring at Aurora. “What?” she snapped as they followed McGonagall upstairs. “Stop looking at me like that, Potter, if you have something to say then I’d rather you just said it.”

“Miss Black,” McGonagall said tiredly. “Please leave the squabbling for another day. Madam Pomfrey will be here soon.”

Madam Pomfrey? Oh, surely this couldn’t get any more embarrassing. McGonagall had really gotten the school nurse to check on Aurora, and in front of Potter and Granger, no less. She was sure her cheeks were bright red when she entered the small office, though she tried her best to appear dignified. She’d never been in Professor McGonagall’s office before, but it was rather sparse. At least Snape’s had some interesting looking potions. “Professor Lupin sent an owl on ahead to say that the two of you had taken ill on the train.”

Potter went red but looked at Aurora curiously. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and said, “I’m quite alright, Professor. I assure you I don’t require any medical assistance.”

McGonagall’s thin mouth seemed like it might just twitch up into a smile. “Be that as it may I would much prefer to be certain.”

A second later, the door behind them opened and Madam Pomfrey came inside. “Oh, it’s you is it?” she said to Potter. “Been up to something dangerous again, I suppose!”

“No, I-”

“It was a Dementor, Poppy,” McGonagall said, cutting over Potter.

Madam Pomfrey made a disapproving sound. “Setting Dementors around a school!” She fussed furiously over Potter and pushed his hair back from his forehead, while Aurora watched, smirking as his face went entirely red. “He won’t be the last to collapse. And Black?” Aurora couldn’t stop her from fussing over her too, feeling her forehead and pulling her hair over her shoulders. “Ah, you are a little clammy dear, and you’re very pale. Terrible things, those Dementors, and the effects they have on those who are already delicate.”

“Excuse me?”

“Not you, dear. Potter, do have some chocolate, I can’t have students fainting again, I’ll have to tell Dumbledore to keep them at bay.”

“I’m not delicate!” Potter said crossly. Aurora smirked at him when Pomfrey turned her back to take Potter’s pulse.

“Of course you’re not, dear.”

“What do they need?” McGonagall asked. “Bed rest? Should they spent the night in the Hospital Wing?”

“I’m fine!” Potter insisted, jumping up. Aurora snickered.

“I’ll be alright, Madam Pomfrey. I think being with my friends and enjoying the feast might help to take my mind off of it. Happiness is the best thing to combat the effects of Dementors, isn’t it?”

Madam Pomfrey’s eyes softened a little. “Of course, dear. You two ought to have some chocolate.”

“Professor Lupin already gave me some,” Potter said.

“And me,” Aurora added.

“Did he now?” Madam Pomfrey looked pleasantly surprised. “Well, it seems we finally have a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who knows his remedies.”

“Are you both quite sure you feel alright?” McGonagall asked in a crisp voice. She looked especially concerned by Aurora, who put on her most warm and confident smile.

“Of course, Professor. There’s no need to worry, Potter and I will both be quite fine. But thank you for your concern.”

Politeness never failed to win her professors over, and though McGonagall still appeared worried, she nodded. “Very well. The both of you can wait outside while I speak to Miss Granger.”

Potter looked curiously at his friend, but Aurora didn’t care. She swept out of the room and leaned against the wall with a freeing scowl as Potter shut the door behind them. Neither of them spoke. Aurora looked determinedly away from him, arms folded and ankles crossed. “Does your little pal Malfoy know you fainted then?”

Aurora didn’t looked at him, just sneered. “And why is that any of your business, Potter?”

“I’ll take that as a no. What, are you embarrassed?”

“Why are you talking to me?” She glanced sideways along at Potter, who looked extremely satisfied that he’d gotten on her nerves. Great. She pursed her lips.

“Well, you are the only other person in the corridor. I’m a bit out of options.”

“Piss off, Potter.”

“Original, Black.”

“You’re already doing my head in and we’ve not even gotten to the Sorting yet.”

“And what are you going to do about it?”

She seethed, but she couldn’t very well threaten him right now, especially outside McGonagall’s office. “You’re getting awfully cocky, Potter,” she told him in a low voice. “You might want to check your attitude.”

“Or what?” He glared at her. “Going to get your dad to do me in, are you?”

She didn’t even feel herself move, but she felt the sting of her hand and the sound of her slapping his cheek. Potter gasped, stumbling back, and she seethed, fury running through her. She was meant to try and be civil, but if he didn’t have the decency or the basic common sense to keep his tongue in his head, then maybe she’d just have to cut it out. Aurora took a step closer to him, glaring down her nose. “Don’t you ever,” she said in a low and threatening voice, “talk about my father, Potter. He is nothing to me, but if you start getting ideas, or start spreading any rumours about me, I am more than capable of doing you in myself. Don’t you think?”

“You don’t scare me, Black,” he said, clutching his cheek with swimming eyes. “You’re pathetic.”

She laughed. “I’m surprised you think I actually care about your opinion, Potter. Now shut your mouth before I shut it for you.”

The moment she stepped away, McGonagall came out of the office with a beaming Granger. It was just in time - things could very well have gone further with Potter, and Aurora knew it. “All settled here?” McGonagall asked crisply, and Aurora nodded.

“Yes, Professor, just hungry for the feast. I really ought to have gotten more from the trolley on the train.”

Professor McGonagall smiled a little at her, while Potter seethed behind her shoulder. Granger realised something was up immediately, of course, looking between Potter and Aurora like she thought the answers to her questions would simply float down the air to her. “Well, I think it is time we all headed down then.”

Potter was silent on their way downstairs but the second he and Granger were reunited with Weasley, they started whispering, sending furtive looks over at Aurora. She ignored them as best she could and held her head high as she went to the Slytherin table. Maybe she had overstepped, but what did Potter think he was playing at, bringing up her father like she had any connection left with him? What had he expected?

“What did McGonagall want with you?” Draco asked as she sat down between him and Pansy. Gwen was avoiding her eye from a few places down the table.

“Oh, she just wanted to talk about my Transfiguration homework,” Aurora replied. The lie came easily. “I wrote her over the holidays, I was uncertain on the section about human to animal Transfiguration and wanted to learn more so I could fill the essay better.”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “You’re so boring, Aurora.”

She smirked, filling her plate with dinner. “As boring as they come. How did Astoria do?”

“Slytherin, of course,” Daphne said from next to Pansy. “So is Lucia Selwyn - see, down there, just next to her - and Wilfred was a hatstall but he made it here anyway.”

A small, pale boy stuck his head out from around the side of Theo. “Hello,” he said cheerfully. “I’m Wilf. You’re Aurora, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she said smoothly. “How do you do, Wilf?”

He grinned. “Quite well. Theo’s going to show me all around the castle first thing in the morning.”

Theo grimaced and Aurora pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. “I see. Well, enjoy.”

He snickered and then sat back, obscures from view from Theo, who gave a long-suffering sigh. Aurora smiled as she tucked into dinner, feeling like possibly, this year wouldn’t be so terrible - as long as Potter stayed out of her way.

When she and Gwen got back to their dormitory, they didn’t speak. Aurora didn’t know how to fix that or even what had truly caused it, and Gwen didn’t seem at all forthcoming. So she tucked herself into bed in silence, and closed her eyes, listening to the sounds of the castle moving about her.


	36. Hippogriffs and Histories

When she woke up in the morning, Aurora somehow felt even more tired than she had the night before, and when she glanced over at Gwen she slightly wanted to bury her face in her pillow again, but she was determined to make the most to the start of this - admittedly unorthodox - new school year. She had three new classes starting this year - Arithmancy, Ancient Runes and Care of Magical Creatures - as well as a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Professor Lupin, though his familiarity unnerved her, had already proven himself smarter than Lockhart had been, and she hoped he’d make a good teacher.

“Why do you have to wake so early?” Gwen groaned as Aurora flicked her wand and turned the lamps around the walls on.

“Come on, Gwen,” she said briskly, standing up without looking at her, “rise and shine, that’s what the Muggles say, isn’t it?”

Gwen didn’t reply, just groaned, and then there was a sound like she’d flopped back onto her bed, though Aurora didn’t take care to look. She put her books into her bag before hurrying to the bathroom to get ready. When she came out, Gwen was tiredly getting herself organised, and Aurora gave her a stiff nod before heading to breakfast.

Draco was, thankfully, already heading through the common room with Blaise and Theodore, with Vincent and Greg hanging a little ways back, and she latched onto them with a forced smile. “Happy new year,” she said cheerfully, and Blaise’s face fell into one of horror.

“Are you okay?”

“Why on earth wouldn’t I be, Zabini?”

“You’re smiling at me. It’s unnerving.”

She replied with an even sharper smirk and linked her arm through Draco’s. “Why, whatever do you mean?”

Blaise looked rather confused, and so Aurora and Draco led the way to the Great Hall. “Is it Potter?” Draco whispered, as they spied him coming down the staircase towards them.

“No. Him I can handle quite fine.”

“Tearston, then?” She pursed her lips. “She’s not worth your time anyway, Aurora.” She tried to smile.

When they got into the Great Hall, Snape handed them their timetables with a sneer. “Comb your hair, Black,” he hissed. “You look like a mess.”

The comment was entirely uncalled for, Aurora thought with a scowl, and she snatched her timetable from Snape’s hand. He glared at her and went on down the length of the table, seeming more hateful every time he had to interact with a student.

“Arithmancy first,” Aurora told the boys happily.

“Good for you,” Theodore said, looking down at his bacon like he was about to fall asleep in it.

“I expect Divination will be positively wretched. You have it with Gryffindor.”

Theo scoffed. “Check your own timetable, Aurora: you’re sharing Arithmancy with Gryffindor too.”

Draco groaned. “He’s right. Merlin, and Care of Magical Creatures, and Ancient Runes. Is there no end!”

When Aurora checked her timetable again, she realised Theo was right. “Oh, no,” she groaned. “This is going to be a rough year.”

When Gwendolyn did eventually arrive to breakfast, she gave Aurora a rather awkward wave and was dragged away by Robin, who merely looked curious. Aurora ignored them and when the time came, headed to class with Draco, Blaise and Pansy. The Arithmancy classroom wasn’t very far, and they found it easily. She knew the Divination class was at the top of North Tower, and so Aurora was very glad she hadn’t chosen that subject.

Professor Septima Vector welcomed them into her class the exact moment that the bell rang, and they filtered inside. “I have organised a seating plan based on your houses,” she said. “We want to encourage integration, as four is a very divisive number.” Four actually had very few factors, so Aurora wasn’t sure what Vector meant, though she couldn’t wait to find out. “Please refer to the blackboard.” She tapped it with her wand and a seating plan appeared. There were only a dozen or so students in the class - most opting for the more easy-going Divination - and far more Slytherins than there were Gryffindors.

But as luck would have it, the seating plan placed her right next to Hermione Granger - sharing a desk, no less. Aurora withheld a groan as she made her way over to the row by the window, claiming the seat next to the airy window. Granger came in a moment later and her face fell and paled when she saw the chart drawn up on the blackboard, but nevertheless she didn’t complain when she went over to sit by Aurora.

“Granger,” Aurora said as pleasantly as she could manage, taking out her textbook.

“Black,” Granger replied stiffly, as she did the same.

They didn’t speak again, which suited Aurora just fine. Once they had all claimed their seats - Pansy had miraculously wound up next to Draco on the complete other side of the room, because of course she had all the luck - Vector cleared the blackboard and began writing with her wand.

“Arithmancy,” she read aloud. “How many of you have studied at Muggle primary schools?” Granger and two other Gryffindors put their hands up. “How many of you had Mathematics tutors as children?” Now a few more of them put their hands up, Aurora included. “Very good. I hope you all have a grasp of the four fundamentals - addition, subtraction, multiplication and division. You will need them. Going forward, we will study further Mathematical theorems as well as Arithmantic theories, in order to integrate the magical study with the physical and give a rounded education that will not only serve your spellwork and understanding of the magical world, but should serve as a basic for numerical interaction and transactions in the future.

“Who can tell me the name of the founding father of Arithmancy?”

Aurora’s hand went into the air, but Granger got there first. “Yes. Hermione Granger, is it?”

Granger nodded. “Yes, Professor.”

“Yes, Professor McGonagall told me all about you.” Granger glowed with pride and Aurora mimed throwing up to Blaise, who sat behind her. He grinned, stifling a laugh. “Your answer?”

“Arithmancy builds off of the constructs of Ancient Greek isopsephy and Hebrew gematria, but the construction of Arithmancy as a form of magic was founded upon the work of Heinrich Cornelius Agrippa, who simplified these concepts and adapted them to the Latin alphabet.”

“Thank you, Miss Granger. That should be familiar to you all, if you have done your required reading, as it is near word for word the passage in your textbooks.” Granger went rather pink and Aurora turned to hide her smirk from Professor Vector. “Nevertheless, you are correct.

“Throughout this term,” Vector went on, “I plan to introduce you not only to the concepts of Arithmancy and Numerology, but their history and their use throughout the Magical world. While Arithmancy is a highly precise field of work, this curriculum will also invite you to form your own ideas and concepts built on a solid foundation of knowledge. Arithmancy has a relevance not only in spellwork but in the workings of time and the future. Despite the oft detached nature of Numerology, Arithmancy can often tell us much about our selves, lives, souls, and fates.” She smiled, and it instantly made the room warmer. “On that note, we will start by a simple exercise founded upon the work of Agrippa.” Vector smiled in Granger’s direction.

“In chapter two of your textbooks, you will find an Agrippan number chart, where each letter of the Latin alphabet is assigned a number. Using your full names, please calculate your life numbers, character numbers, and heart numbers according to the instructions in your textbook.”

Granger flipped frantically to chapter two, and Aurora watched her in amusement. She herself had done these calculations numerous times before. Her heart was three, her life was one, and her character was a four. Though she opened her textbook and double-checked the calculation just for something to do, she wasn’t frowning like Granger was. “Why aren’t you working?” she hissed at her.

“Sorry?” Aurora asked.

“Professor Vector told us to do these calculations”.

“I’ve already done them,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “Three, one and four.”

Granger looked furious that Aurora had gotten ahead of her, though really it was only because she was interested in this subject in particular. She smirked, and took to re-reading her textbook, going over the history of Agrippan method. After five minutes, Vector called time up, and came around to check everyone’s calculations and tell them what they meant. “Your calculation is interesting,” she told Aurora. “Three, one and four. It is a circular number, emphasising change... Your heart and life numbers are both very strong... Your character number is a four. Signifying an honest soul. Does this sound right?” Vector was examining her closely. “Your number is like that of a phoenix. It is rare, and yet it doesn’t seem to quite add up.” She frowned. “Aurora Black, is it?” She nodded. “Middle name?”

“I haven’t got one.”

Professor Vector didn’t appear satisfied. “Mother’s maiden name?”

Aurora swallowed. “I don’t know, Professor.”

Vector’s mouth thinned into a tight line. “Mother’s forename?”

“I don’t know that either, Professor.”

“Hm.” She narrowed her eyes. “I sense a change is indeed afoot, Aurora, but your numbers do not quite add up. Three names make for the most stable of calculations. Miss Granger, how about you?”

Granger gave a superior look, but Aurora hardly noticed it, too engrossed in her own thoughts. She knew her calculations were correct - she was more than capable of basic numeracy - and yet Vector didn’t seem satisfied by them. Granger was told her soul was genuine and then Vector went on to speak to Davis and Drought, leaving the pair alone.

“So much for having already done the calculation,” Granger said in a smug voice, and Aurora glared venomously at her. “Still, I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it.”

“Don’t patronise me, Granger. I’m more than capable of figuring out what my numbers mean for myself, thank you very much. Still, I’m sure you’re very proud of your genuine soul. How positively Gryffindor.” She sneered and turned back to her parchment, though she was fuming. It wasn’t her fault she didn’t know her mother’s name, after all. Even then, it wouldn’t be a supplement for a middle name, which she didn’t even know if she had.

Or maybe she could just have an honest soul and be happy with it. Who was to say that wasn’t at her core, that that was the person she’d become? Honest, and perhaps kind with it. Not a scheming Slytherin. But getting away with lying and bluffing with so fun. Honesty would be boring.

Still, she would figure it out. Numbers could be manipulated and interpreted in many ways, and this wasn’t the be all and end all of Arithmancy or her personality. She simply had to broaden her understanding of the subject a little bit more.

The rest of the class was more like a history lecture, as Professor Vector went over the basic foundations of Arithmancy and its relationship to other forms of magic - primarily Divination, Transfiguration, Alchemy, and Potions. At the mention of Alchemy, Aurora sat up straight and scribbled furious notes on everything the professor said; Granger looked surprised at her, though she could only be distracted from her own diligent note-taking for a handful of seconds.

With the promise that they would be taking a deeper dive into the properties of Arithmancy and its practical applications in the next lesson, Vector let them go. “That was rather alright, wasn’t it?” Pansy said as she met Aurora at the door. She sneered at Granger as she passed. “Pity you had to sit with her.” She lowered her voice to a rather giddy whisper. “Draco and I have the same heart number, can you believe it? Do you think it means anything?”

Aurora laughed. “Not romantically, if that’s what you’re thinking.” From the blush on Pansy’s cheeks, it seemed that was what she had been thinking. “No, your heart number has more to do with your magical abilities, power and core, like Professor Vector said.”

Pansy bit her lip. “Do you think it might mean something, though? Do you think he thinks it might?”

“Ask him yourself,” Aurora told her quietly, with a smile even though it was strange to think of her two oldest friends having any sort of romantic relationship.

“Oh, I can’t do that! Won’t you find out for me, Aurora?”

“I can’t ask him! It’s your life!”

“Oh, but Aurora, it would be so dreadfully embarrassing if he said no!”

Shaking her head, Aurora led Pansy upstairs towards their Charms class. “You’ll just have to work it out yourself then.”

“But you will tell me if he says anything about me?”

“Pansy, he’s always talking about you. How am I to know why?”

Pansy sighed. “Please?”

Aurora rolled her eyes fondly though she had no idea what sort of thing she was even supposed to report back on. “Sure. I’ll keep an ear out.”

Pansy beamed. “This is why you’re my best friend,” she said, hugging her tightly, and it made Aurora blush so much she was still boiling when she slipped into a seat between Theodore and Daphne - on the opposite side of the classroom to Gwen - five minutes later.

“How was Divination?” she asked. “I bet it wasn’t as good as Arithmancy.”

“It was alright,” Theodore said with a shrug. “Not my cup of tea, but Daphne enjoyed it.

“Trelawney predicted Potter’s death.”

“Lovely,” Aurora said with a tense smile as she got out her notes. “That gives me something to look forward to.”

“I told you she’d say that,” Daphne said quietly, and Theodore glared as he handed her a sickle.

Aurora rolled her eyes and said primly, “You shouldn’t gamble.”

“Oh, but you’re so fun to predict. And besides, now I have an Inner Eye.” He screwed up his face comically. “I predict... Aurora will become bored of Arithmancy, which sounds like the worst subject ever invented, and instead see clearly and turn to Divination to explore her soul.”

“You need Inner Glasses, Theodore. Do be quiet.”

Charms passed without much of an event, but over lunch everyone was excited about their first afternoon lesson - Care of Magical Creatures. “I have to say, I’m not pleased they’ve got that oaf Hagrid teaching classes,” Draco said with a sniff.

“You never know,” Aurora said placidly, skimming her copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find them - she was loathe to touch the Monster Book of Monsters - “he might be alright. He certainly knows a lot from being gamekeeper.”

Draco didn’t seem convinced, and confessed to Aurora that he was worried they’d have to go into the Forbidden Forest again, like they had in first year. “He won’t take a whole class in,” she said confidently, though she did wonder if he might. “It was a punishment. Besides, it’s the day time and there’s nothing murdering unicorns now as far as I know. Plus, we’ll probably start small - bowtruckles and pixies and things like.”

Aurora walked to Care of Magical Creatures with Pansy, Millicent, Lucille, Theo and Blaise. This was mainly because Draco, Vincent and Greg were having a good old time making fun of Potter for fainting, and Aurora didn’t want her facial expressions to betray the fact that she’d fainted too. It was horribly embarrassing, and would only be made worse if Draco realised he’d upset her by taunting Potter.

“You don’t think he’ll really take us into the forest, do you?” Lucille asked, though she seemed more interested than scared.

“Hard to know,” Aurora said. “I doubt he’ll take us far in, but it could be interesting to see some creatures in their natural habitats.”

“There are unicorns in the forest, aren’t there?” Millicent asked. Aurora nodded and she grinned. “Oh, I hope we get to see one!”

“I doubt they’ll show unicorns to third years, Millie,” Pansy said patronisingly, and Millicent went pink. “Honestly! They’re incredibly rare and they don’t like most humans. They value elegance.” She smiled smugly. “Seeing as we have this class with Gryffindors, elegance will be in rather short supply.”

When they arrived at Hagrid’s hut, there was no further clues as to what they could expect. “‘Lo, Aurora,” Hagrid said cheerfully to her, and she waved back.

“Afternoon, Professor. Did you have a nice Summer?”

“Couldn’t have been better.” He beamed proudly. “Excited for your new classes then? Who’re these friends you have with you?”

Pansy and Lucille were both eyeing Hagrid with apparent distaste, but Millicent was surprisingly quick to introduce herself, as were Theo and Blaise. The rest of the class arrived quickly and Hagrid’s attention was diverted by Potter, Weasley and Granger, leaving Aurora to the questions of her friends. “How does Professor Hagrid know you?” Lucille asked, wrinkling her nose.

“I made a point to get to know all the staff,” Aurora said airily. “It comes in useful, and I suspect will be especially handy now he’s a professor. It does pay to be nice to people sometimes, Lucille.”

“Right,” Hagrid said loudly before Lucille could snipe back. “Off we go then, if everybody’s here. Got a real treat for yeh today! With me.”

For a moment, Aurora really thought Hagrid was going to lead them into the forest, but it turned out he was leading them around its edge instead, to a large - and empty - paddock. Aurora peered in curiously.

“First thing yeh’ll want to do,” Hagrid was saying, “is ter open the books!”

“And how exactly do we do that?” Draco asked coldly, taking the question right out of Aurora’s mouth.

Hagrid looked around blankly. “Has - has no one figure it out?” Aurora felt incredibly annoyed to have to admit that she hadn’t. “Yeh have ter stroke ‘em.”

“Stroke them?” Lucille said shrilly to the girls. “I’m not touching one! I don’t even have it with me, it’s a beastly thing.”

Aurora took her own book out of her bag. It snapped around the belt, but then she ran a finger down the spine as Hagrid had demonstrated and smiled as it relaxed. “It’s not too hard,” she told the others, who - with the exception of Lucille - were quick to follow her example.

“I thought they were funny,” Hagrid said uncertainly, and Draco and Pansy both snorted.

“Oh yes. Really witty, that. Giving us books that try and rip our hands off!”

“Well,” Aurora said quietly, “I suppose it gets us used to dealing with wild, dangerous things.”

“Yes,” Blaise said haughtily, “except books aren’t meant to be either of those things.”

“I think it is a little funny,” Millicent admitted, but only so Aurora could hear.

Hagrid went off flustered and returned a couple of minutes later with a herd of horse-like, feathered animals that Aurora quickly identified as Hippogriffs. They were gorgeous, though she was hesitant to go near them at first. Potter was the first to introduce himself to a Hippogriff named Buckbeak, bowing lowly to it, and eventually got to ride it. Aurora was incredibly jealous, and when Potter landed beaming, she wished dearly that she had been the first to ride a Hippogriff.

They all got a chance, though. Draco got to introduce himself to Buckbeak while Aurora spoke to a dark-feathered, almost raven-like Hippogriff named Softail. “Hello, my lovely,” she said, sinking into a low bow. “You’re gorgeous.”

Softail regarded her curiously, and made a low sort of whinnying sound. Aurora took a step backwards as Hagrid had warned, never breaking that gentle eye contact. Softail whinnied again, tossing his head, and she stepped further back. She was about to hurry out of the paddock towards Hagrid and Potter when Draco let out a cry and she turned around, just in time to see Buckbeak slash his arm with his claws. Time seemed to stop as blood bloomed suddenly from the gash and she felt suddenly sick with sharp terror.

“Draco!” she shrieked, rushing towards him with her heart in her mouth. “What’s it done to him?”

“Out of the way,” Hagrid said fretfully, running over to wrestle Buckbeak back. “Out the way, I’ve got you!”

“I’m dying!” Draco cried, and though he was being dramatic, Aurora felt panic rise in her throat as she clutched him, trying to move him out of harm’s way. “I’m dying, look what it’s done, it tried to kill me!”

“Professor!” Aurora cried. “Professor Hagrid, do something, Draco’s hurt!”

In a moment, Hagrid had run over and was scooping Draco up in his arms, both of them quite white. “I gotta get him to the Hospital Wing,” he muttered, and Pansy rushed over, grabbing Aurora’s hand.

“What’s happening? Will he be okay?”

“I gotta go,” Hagrid said. “Class dismissed!”

And he ran back up to the castle with Draco in his arms. Aurora and Pansy wasted no time in grabbing their bags and books and hurrying after him, along with the rest of the class. When they got back at the castle, there was no sign of Hagrid, but they took the stairs two at a time, rushing to the Hospital Wing.

“Draco!” Pansy cried as they burst in, much to Madam Pomfrey’s annoyance. Draco was being laid onto a bed, moaning as he clutched his arm. “Oh, Draco!”

“Miss Parkinson, do calm down,” Pomfrey snapped.

“Are you okay?” Aurora asked quickly, trying to keep calm, looking to Draco. “It looks horrible, Draco, what happened?”

“He’ll be quite alright, Miss Black,” Madam Pomfrey said, ushering them back towards the door. “Now, I will have to ask please let me attend to my patient. You can speak to him later, when I have fixed his arm.”

“But-“

“No buts, Miss Parkinson, I know what I’m doing.” She ushered them out and Aurora got only one fretful glance towards her friend before the door swung shut.

“Ugh!” Pansy let out a cry of frustration, whipping around. “Who does she think she is, not letting us see Draco? What if he’s badly injured?”

“He’ll be alright,” Aurora said uncertainly, looping Pansy’s arm through hers. “I suppose she does know what she’s doing. But that thing was absolutely beastly, don’t you think? I can’t believe Professor Hagrid brought those out in our first ever lesson! They were interesting but we barely knew how to handle them, it’s a wonder no one else got hurt!”

And they debated that all the way down to the common room, still fuming.

-*

Aurora didn’t have her first Ancient Runes class until Tuesday. It didn’t interest her quite as much as Arithmancy did, but she was still looking forward to it, despite her worry over Draco’s condition. She’d gone to see him the night before and he was alright, but clearly shaken, and his arm looked rather a mess. He assured her that he’d be alright for Quidditch, though, which satisfied her and the rest of the Slytherin team who she reported back to upon her return to the common room.

She went along with a still disconcertingly reserved Gwendolyn and Robin, Leah MacMillan, and Theodore Nott after lunch, as they were the only Slytherins studying Runes this year. MacMillan eyed Aurora warily, but as the others were at ease, she didn’t say anything.

Aurora was annoyed but not entirely surprised to see that Hermione Granger was also in her Ancient Runes class, along with her fellow Gryffindors Eloise Midgeon and Frida Selwyn, the former of whom glared at Aurora and the latter of whom merely raised her eyebrows coolly and whispered to her friends. Leah split to sit by her brother Ernie, who came in with Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones. The rest of the class was formed by Ravenclaws, who whispered excitedly as they entered.

Aurora sat between Theo and a rather quiet but civil Gwen, taking out her textbooks and the notes she’d made over the holidays in preparation for the class. Their Professor, Bathsheda Babbling, came in a few minutes late, and smiled around at her small collection of students. “Good turnout this year,” she said cheerfully, though Aurora didn’t think it was. “Lovely. I am Professor Bathsheda Babbling, and I do hope you are all in the right place because I would hate to lose anybody.” Aurora and Theodore shot each other quietly confused looks and Gwen whispered something to Robin on her right. Granger, who sat predictably in the front on her own, looked up curiously at the teacher. “You’re all meant to be here? Wonderful. You won’t mind if I take a quick register then? I do think it’s vitally important to learn everybody’s names - your names can reveal an awful lot. Abbott!”

Hannah Abbot, a round faced, red-haired Hufflepuff, sat up straight and stared at Professor Babbling. “Yes, Professor?”

“Are you here?”

Abbott blinked. “Yes, Professor?”

“Jolly good, say here, then.”

“Here?”

Babbling smiled. “Lovely. Allan?”

Caroline Allan, a pale, mousy-haired Ravenclaw girl, looked very startled, but said, “Here.”

Babbling continued on down the list cheerfully. There were barely two dozen students in their class, which considering it involved students from all four houses, was a very small proportion. Aurora thought perhaps it was a good thing. It meant they’d get more attention.

“There are over ten thousand understood Runes,” Babbling said as she finished the register with Gwendolyn. “And even more that are known but not understood. Much of our knowledge of Runes is from a Western, and often Scandinavian, Celtic and Germanic focus, but Runes do not merely encompass those languages that belong to a Muggle sense of linguistic identity, but those that refer to magical symbols and understandings of the world. Over the course of this year we will cover a variety of Magical and Muggle focused Runes, all of which you will understand to play a role in the way we view the magical world, history, and magic itself.

“For now, consider alphabets. The word itself comes from Greek; an alphabet which begins with what two letters, Miss Selwyn?”

Frida Selwyn jumped. “Alpha and beta, Professor.”

“One point to Gryffindor. Mr Oliphant, what Latin letters do Alpha and Beta correspond to?”

“A and B, Professor.”

“A point to Slytherin. Miss Bones, how many letters in the common Greek alphabet?”

Susan Bones looked rather flustered. “Er, twenty one, Professor?”

“Twenty four, Miss Bones. Mr Corner, how many letters in the English alphabet?”

“Twenty six, Professor.”

Babbling spread her arms. “And herein lies our problem. Runes rarely not align well with our modern understanding of language. Similarly, many magical and symbolic Runes do not correspond well to modern magic. Runes must be understood in their own contexts and historical languages as well as their role in that universal, temporal language that is magic. Creating an English or modern equivalent can be helpful but cannot be relied upon. Miss Granger, do you have any idea how many characters form the Chinese Mandarin language?”

Granger looked surprised. “I’m not sure, Professor. Twenty thousand?”

“Over fifty thousand - most dictionaries would list around twenty thousand, however, while the average Chinese speaker is estimated to know around eight thousand.” She cleared her throat. “We think of Runes as something from the past, symbols of a forgotten era, however if we take the definition of Runes to mean a symbol denoting a word or letter, how can they be? Not every symbol has magical potential just as not every spoken word does; it is the history of magic and power behind a word or symbol that makes it significant to our practice. Ancient Runes therefore remain extremely relevant in our modern magical era.

“Now, I hardly expect you all to know every Rune off the top of your heads. No one knows every English word after all, so they? But I do expect that by the time you reach the end of your fifth year, you will have a grasp on the key Runic alphabets and scriptures as well as understand magical Runes and their significance in a wider context.” She smiled. “Now, I have some slate here. How about you all try writing your names in Runes?”

But just as with Arithmancy, Aurora grew stumped. Getting a grasp on the first set of Anglo-Saxon runes was simple enough, and the guide was well explained, but when she only had two names written down she couldn’t help but feel like there was something missing. Theodore had three middle names - Arthur Charles Phillip - and even Gwen, Robin and Leah all had one each. Aurora was sure she must have one, but it had been lost. Maybe Andromeda would know, or Narcissa, though both were long shots.

Professor Babbling made no comment on their names themselves, only their quillwork when writing them, but by the end of the day it was already stewing in Aurora’s mind. There was only one living person who would know for certain her middle name but she had no intentions of going anywhere near him. And it pained her to think that she didn’t even know the name of her other parent. Her own mother.

Yet no one else around her seemed to realise or care. Why would they? No one else had lost so much of where they came from, their entire family, as she had. They all knew who they were. She liked to think she did too, but everything she had come from was gone and it wasn’t coming back.

And therein lay the problem. That the one person who could tell her the truth - her name, her mother - was the one who had destroyed her family in the first place.


	37. The Boggart

Aurora couldn’t take the staring. Everywhere she went, people pointed and whispered, and the instant she returned their gazes they ducked away, frightened. It wasn’t even funny. She wished Draco could at least be around to lighten the mood, but he was still injured - and Madam Pomfrey wouldn’t let Aurora even visit him - while Pansy preferred to try and distract Aurora by gossiping about the romantic ventures of the upper years, and Gwendolyn seemed both frosty and entirely unwilling to explain why. Aurora thought that meant it was her fault for whatever she’d done to upset her, but if that was the case why couldn’t Gwendolyn just come out and say what bothered her so much. It wasn’t as if her father was an escaped mass murderer responsible for the deaths of her mother, godparents, and once-close family friend. Frankly, she thought that if their argument was the greatest issue in Gwendolyn’s life then she had very little to be worried about.

So Aurora stuck by Theodore and Daphne mainly. The former preferred to chat about books, one thing Aurora was still confident in, while Daphne had a great manner of commenting on everyone around them. “I don’t know why Finnigan has taken to whispering so much,” she said as they passed in the Entrance Hall, throwing the Gryffindor a contemptuous look “normally he’s content to run his mouth off about everything and anything. Perhaps he’s trying not to be so explosive.”

“I prefer the Gryffindors when they’re quiet,” Theodore agreed, glancing over the top of his upside-down Divination textbook, “but I’m not sure there are any.”

One of the first year Hufflepuffs saw Aurora coming and jumped out of her way with a squeak. “Say, what’s the difference between a badger and a mouse?” Daphne asked, gaze cutting the little girl.

“Colouring.”

“Badgers are more likely to engage in cannibalism.”

“Is that true, Theodore?”

“It could be. I don’t know.”

The only non-Slytherin willing to talk to Aurora was Neville, though he did wear a certain expression of nerves when she approached him and their usual desk at the start of Potions. “I’m not going to murder you,” she told him flatly, eyes flicking to Granger, who had set up just behind them. “If I wanted to I would have done so before now. I’d never get away with it when there’s this much security.”

“That - that isn’t really comforting, Aurora.”

She grinned. “Sorry, Neville. You know I don’t mean it.”

“My gran says to be careful around you.”

“Why?” It came out harsher than she’d intended it to and Neville winced. She tried not to let her frustration at that show. “Look, Neville, just because my useless father has somehow managed to break out of prison does not mean I’m going to decide to follow in his footsteps. Or anyone else’s for that matter,” she added, gut twisting at the reminder of exactly why Neville may be warned against members of her family. Her father hadn’t been the only one in Azkaban.

“I - I know,” Neville stammered out. “I know you’re alright, Aurora.”

“Good,” she said, with a faint smile. “But seriously, I’d appreciate if everyone stopped looking at me like I was about to jump them with a killing curse.”

Draco didn’t return to class until halfway through the lesson, with a determinedly brave expression. Aurora breathed a sigh of relief when she saw him, although his arm was heavily bandaged. Neville looked up curiously and then straight away again.

Potter and Weasley looked furious that Draco came into class late without any punishment, but Aurora didn’t know what they’d expected. And besides, he was injured. As class wore on, Potter and Weasley seemed to be deliberately antagonising Draco, mutilating his gurdyroots and very poorly skinning his Shrivelfigs. Aurora sniffed haughtily at them and rolled her eyes, returning her attention to Neville. “Only one rat spleen,” she reminded him as he reached for another, and he jumped to attention. “Neville, please relax. Just keep an eye on the board and your instructions, like I told you to. Your potion will be fine so long as you’re careful.”

Neville nodded, but went pale as Snape came over to them, having sufficiently annoyed Potter for the day. “Miss Black, I do hope you aren’t helping Longbottom cheat.”

“Not at all, Professor,” she replied smoothly. “I was merely checking if he could pass over the bottle of leech juice.”

Snape sneered at her. “You won’t get away with this forever, Black.”

She was honestly confused by that. “With what, Professor?”

“Longbottom!” Snape barked, and poor Neville startled out of his skin, dropping far too much leech juice into his potion. A surge of anger towards Snape rushed through Aurora. “You idiot boy!” Snape snapped. “A dash of leech juice! A dash! What do I have to do to get this through your thick head?”

Aurora quickly snatched the leech juice from Neville so he wouldn’t spill any more. He was trembling a little. “Professor, an excess of leech juice can be remedied, can’t it?”

“Please, Professor,” Granger piped up before Snape could answer Aurora - which was just as well, because he looked furious - “I can help Neville fix it, sir.”

“I don’t remember telling you to show off, Miss Granger,” Snape snarled. “Longbottom, at the end of the lesson we will feed a few drops of this potion to your toad. I do hope you don’t mess it up and poison him.”

He swept away and Neville looked down in horror at his potion, having gone pink. “Don’t cry,” Aurora told him sharply, and slid a silk handkerchief over to him anyway. “I’ll help you fix it, just keep your act together until the end of class. It’s a simple enough fix - and you almost did it right, if Snape hadn’t startled you.” She smiled at him, a gesture which he returned weakly. “Come on, let’s see to this. If we stir anti-clockwise now, it should counteract the leech juice a little. Can you think of any plant ingredients that might diffuse the effects?” She knew the answer was right in front of them, but thought it might make Neville feel better if he figured it out himself.

“The g-gurdyroots, right?” She nodded and Neville sniffled. “What if it hurts Trevor?”

“I promise it won’t,” she said, holding his shoulder gently. “You slice the roots, I’ll stir and attend to my potion - it’s almost done.”

She gave Neville’s potion two anti-clockwise stirs while he cut two more of his roots. She was tuned in absently to a conversation the next row over - Seamus Finnigan claimed Aurora’s father had been spotted in Dufftown, not far from Hogwarts. She kept her head down, not wanting to be involved in a conversation about it, but the idea of him being so close scared her. She focused on her work, trying not to think about it. Once Neville had cut up his roots, they added them in together, and Neville had just stirred them enough to juice when Snape said, “You should have finished adding your ingredients now. This potion needs to stew before it can be drunk; clear away while it simmers and then we can test Longbottom’s.”

Neville went white again, so Aurora tidied up the knives and other potentially dangerous objects just to be on the safe side. She caught a snippet of Potter and Weasley’s conversation by the water basins - “Why would I go after Black? He hadn’t done anything to me - yet.” - and hurried away again, feeling nervous. It was good that Potter didn’t know, but she worried what he might do when he did inevitably find out. He didn’t scare her, she reminded herself, or at least no more than her father did. But he was still a Gryffindor, and most of them were a bit mad.

As the lesson drew to a close, Snape gathered them all around Neville’s cauldron. Aurora gave him an encouraging smile, and Snape glared at her. That was nothing new, though.

“Now I will be demonstrating Longbottom’s Shrinking Solution. If he has brewed it correctly, then his toad here-“ he held up Trevor, who looked frightened as a toad could be “-should shrink to a tadpole. If not, then I suspect he shall be poisoned.”

Neville shook, and Aurora grabbed his hand underneath the table. It would be fine, she thought to herself, and breathed a sigh of relief as Snape ladled the potion and it turned out green. With a grimace, he ladled a couple of drops into Trevor’s mouth; a second later there was a loud POP and he shrank into a tadpole.

Aurora breathed a sigh of relief and let go of Neville’s hand to clap politely. With an extremely sour look, Snape put another couple of drops of a different potion into Trevor the toad’s mouth, causing him to return to his regular size.

“Five points from Gryffindor,” Snape said, to a mass of groans. “Miss Granger, I thought I told you not to assist Longbottom.”

Granger went pink. “I didn’t, sir.”

“I don’t appreciate liars in my classroom, Miss Granger. Another five points.”

Aurora felt bad at the expressions on the Gryffindors’ faces, though mostly Neville’s. He looked as though he expected her to come clean, so she sighed and compromised. “Neville brewed it himself, Professor. I watched him.” She smiled at Neville. It was true, she’d only suggested he add gurdyroots. The vast majority of the work, he had done by himself.

Snape looked at her with intense dislike. “Detention for speaking out of turn, Black. And for cheating and lying.” A nasty smile curved his lips. “Make that three detentions, then, one for each crime.”

She looked sourly at him, but didn’t say anything more. He ordered them to clear out of the classroom and Aurora did so happily. She meant to speak to Draco, but he got swept along with Pansy and Neville caught her arm inside. “Thank you, Aurora,” he told her breathlessly. “You didn’t have to stand up for Hermione.”

She smiled awkwardly. It really hadn’t been Granger she was looking out for. “You did do most of everything yourself, Neville. You have the ability and the knowledge, it’s only a matter of having the confidence to apply it.”

This seemed to bring a smile to Neville’s face at any rate, though he soon dropped back into step with the other Gryffindors, leaving Aurora to hurry up and find a seat at the Slytherin Table next to Draco. Thankfully, he’d left one open for her, and she hugged him carefully around the shoulders before sitting down.

“Does it still hurt awfully?” she asked.

He winced dramatically. “Only when I move it.”

“But it isn’t broken or anything, is it? It is going to be alright?”

“Hopefully not,” Draco said. “It hurts like anything, though. That thing could have taken the whole thing off - I could have lost my arm if it hadn’t been for Madam Pomfrey.”

“Oh, that brute,” Pansy said with a shudder. “He ought to get banned from teaching, don’t you think, Aurora?”

“He should certainly be restrained more,” Aurora said. “We hardly got a fair assessment of his teaching, but starting us off with Hippogriffs was foolish and irresponsible. I don’t know what he was thinking.”

“I’d thought we’d see unicorns and things,” Daphne put in. “Not those! Unicorns wouldn’t try to rip Draco’s arm off, would they?”

Everyone made a great fuss over Draco at lunch, but then it was time to go to their first Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Aurora hoped Lupin was as good as the upper years had said he was.

She, Draco and Pansy arrived and sat down promptly, and most of their fellow Slytherins were excited about the class. “Shame old Snape couldn’t take the post,” Draco said. “This Lupin seems rather shabby to me.”

“I’m sure he’s better than Lockhart at any rate,” said Aurora diplomatically, as the Gryffindors came in. No one could disagree with that; Lockhart really had been useless. Professor Lupin seemed to take his time to join them; Potter spent most of that time glaring at Aurora and Draco, which they of course reciprocated. She wanted to sneer that she’d really done Gryffindor a favour earlier by telling Snape that Granger hadn’t helped Neville, but it was unlike Potter to give a damn what she had to say anyway.

“Oh, if we have another Cornish pixies incident, I think I might cry,” said Pansy, who hadn’t forgotten how they had ruined her hair this time last year.

Aurora snickered. “Maybe Draco will need me to save him again.”

“Shut up, Aurora,” he muttered, going scarlet. “My arm’s injured anyway.”

“Poor dear,” she teased, But was careful not to get to close in case she accidentally bashed it. “Has your father replied to you yet?”

“No,” he said grumpily. “But I’m sure once he does I’ll get a wonderful letter telling me I won’t have to take that beastly class again.”

“Oh, I wish I could drop it,” Pansy said. She was fluttering her eyelashes at Draco, though Aurora thought this was very much not the time. “When I think of what that brute let happen to you - I couldn’t bare seeing you hurt, Draco.”

Aurora was about to reply with how she had been the first to respond to Draco, not Pansy, but Professor Lupin chose that moment to enter the classroom, setting a battered looking suitcase down on the desk. He smiled somewhat tiredly, sweeping back his patched up robes. Draco sneered, but Aurora leaned forward interestedly. Maybe she could figure out where she recognised him from; it had been nagging at her all week.

“Good afternoon,” he said pleasantly. His voice was relatively quiet and gentle, but he had that great quality of being able to pull in a room’s attention regardless. “Would you all please put your books, parchment and quills back into your bags. For today’s lesson you will need only your wands.”

“Please not pixies,” Draco said, eyes turned upwards like he was praying, and Aurora smiled.

“At least he isn’t making us do a quiz all about him,” she said, stowing her things away in her bag and taking out her wand with a feeling of great excitement.

“Right then,” Lupin said as they got up. “Follow me then, please.”

Aurora watched Lupin carefully as they all left the classroom together. She didn’t know him by his stature or his walk, but something still nagged at her. “I don’t suppose any of you know him?” she whispered to a handful of the other Slytherins, all of whom gave her blank looks.

“Not a clue,” said Millicent.

“As if I’d know someone who dresses like that,” Pansy said, scoffing. “Why? You don’t know him, so you?”

“I don’t know. He looks familiar.”

“It’s probably just one of those things,” Daphne said. “He must have a generic face. Common, you know?”

It seemed Professor Lupin was leading them towards the staff room; unfortunately for him, Peeves was loitering around the door. He looked up and a brilliant light came into his eyes as he cackled, “Loony, loopy Lupin. Loony loopy Lupin! Loony loopy Lupin!”

Draco laughed, but Aurora was just staring at Peeves. Rarely did he outright make fun of a teacher, but it seemed Lupin was taking it in his stride. He just smiled as though he were amused. Aurora thought it couldn’t have been long since he had been a student; despite his tired eyes, his face was still young and he seemed to be around the same age as Snape. “I’d take that gum out of the keyhole if I were you, Peeves. Mr Filch won’t be able to get into his brooms.”

Peeves didn’t care, as Peeves rarely cared about anything. He blew a giant wet raspberry at Lupin, and Robin snickered. Lupin sighed, taking out his wand. “This is a useful spell,” he told the class over his shoulder. “Waddiwasi!”

The chewing gum that had been stuck in the keyhole flew out of it and zoomed up Peeves’ nostril. He went soaring away and the whole class burst into laughter, Aurora included. “Cool, sir!” said Dean Thomas, one of the Gryffindors.

“Thank you, Dean,” Lupin said, and Aurora raised her eyebrows. It was impressive how he knew some students’ names already - or maybe he had met him on the train, too. “Shall we proceed?”

They continued on towards the staff room, where Lupin led them inside. A large wardrobe stood there, and Snape glanced up coolly as they entered. “Leave it open, Lupin,” he said as Professor Lupin made to close the door. “I would rather not bear witness to this.” His robes whirled around his ankles as he stood up and stride over to the door, shooting Aurora a nasty look as he did so. She reciprocated with a cold glare. “Perhaps no one warned you, Lupin, but Neville Longbottom is in this class. I would advise you not to trust him with anything difficult, unless Aurora Black is assisting him in cheating.” She tightened her jaw, glaring. “I must warn you, you have quite the sneak on your hands here.”

Lupin raised his eyebrows, looking between them both. “As a matter of fact, I was rather hoping that Neville here could assist me with a demonstration. I am sure he will perform most admirably.”

Snape just sneered and left, giving Aurora a nasty look as he did so. “Arsehole,” she muttered under her breath. He’d completely ruined her chance to make a good first impression on her new teacher, and she was sure he was glad of it. Although, she could have sworn Lupin smiled at her.

“Now, then,” Lupin said, leading them over to a rattling wardrobe. Neville was looking rather red, and so Aurora gave him an encouraging smile.

The wardrobe gave a shudder, causing many people to leap back in alarm. Potter trod on Aurora’s foot and she hissed at him. “Watch it, clumsy.”

“Not my fault you were standing so close, Black!”

“Not my fault you’re so woefully unaware of your own surroundings, Potter!”

“Quiet, please,” Lupin said, and Aurora shut up, going red. He glanced between her and Potter curiously. “There’s no need to be alarmed. What we have in this wardrobe is a Boggart.”

Aurora remembered reading about them in her textbook: they took the form of whatever their victim feared most, which was why although not particularly dangerous, they were widely feared, and could cause serious distress and hysteria, which in turn caused their victims to endanger themselves. “Boggarts like closed, dark spaces,” Lupin went on. “Wardrobes, under beds, cupboards underneath kitchen sinks. I even met one that had lodged itself inside a grandfather clock. This Boggart moved in yesterday, and I asked the Headmaster if the staff might leave it so you students could have a bit of a practical lesson.” He grinned, and Aurora found herself smiling back. He knew better than Lockhart and Quirrel at any rate, and from the way he’d spoken to Neville she could tell he was at least a nicer teacher than Snape. “So, the first question we must ask ourselves, what is a Boggart?”

Aurora raised her hand. Granger’s, predictably, flew into the air like a balloon. But Lupin’s eyes fell on her instead, almost seeming interested. “Aurora?”

“Boggarts are shape-shifters,” she told him. “They take the form of their victim’s greatest fear, in order to cause distress, hysteria and panic. They aren’t necessarily dangerous in a predatory sense, like a lot of other Dark creatures, but their mental effects can cause people to endanger themselves, as well as seriously strain people.”

“A very sound definition,” Lupin said with something of a smile. “Five points to... Slytherin, is it?”

She smirked at Granger, who seemed extremely put out. “Thank you, Professor.”

“So,” he continued. “The Boggart in here has not yet taken on a form. It does not yet know what may frighten the person on the other side of the door. Nobody knows what a Boggart looks like alone, but when I open this door he will become whatever each of us fears.” Neville made a little terrified sound. Aurora wasn’t sure it was a good idea to use him as a demonstration, but she kept telling him to believe in himself and if this went well, it would hopefully boost his confidence. “This means we have a huge advantage over the Boggart. Has anyone spotted it? Harry?” Of course he would ask Potter.

“Er...” He seemed stumped for a moment. “Because there are so many of us, the Boggart won’t know what form to take?”

“Precisely.” He smiled warmly at Potter. Aurora didn’t fail to notice it was a warmer smile than the one he had given her, even though Potter’s answer had been nowhere near as detailed and thought out as hers had. It was more or less a guess. She would bet money Lupin had been a Gryffindor. “That’ll be five points for Gryffindor, Harry. Now, it’s always best to have company when dealing with a Boggart. This confuses him, as he received different signals from different people and therefore finds it harder to take a single form that will frighten everyone. He might become caught between the choice of a headless corpse or a flesh-eating slug. I once saw a Boggart try that very combination - in an attempt to frighten two people at once - and instead became simply half a slug. Rather amusing, actually.

“The charm that repels a Boggart is a simple one, though it does require force. You see, a Boggart is banished by laughter, the very opposite of fear. You must force it to take a form that you find amusing. We will practice the incantation without wands first. After me... Riddikulus!”

Despite feeling rather foolish, Aurora repeated, “Riddikulus!” along with the rest of her class.

“This class is ridiculous,” Draco muttered, though Aurora thought he was mostly jealous he didn’t get to take part, due to his injury.

“Very good, though I’m afraid that was the easy part. Saying the word alone is not enough. This is where you come in, Neville.”

Neville looked white as a sheet. He looked around him nervously, eyes settling on Aurora. “You’ll be fine,” she told him quietly. “Go on.”

Shaking a little, he stepped forward. Aurora wasn’t surprised when he revealed his worst fear to be Professor Snape, though it did disturb her. What right did Snape have to make Neville fear him so much? He was his teacher! It made her blood boil. She was greatly looking forward to Lupin’s promise of making the Boggart Snape wear Neville’s grandmother’s clothes - a tall hat with a vulture on top, a long green dress, a faux-fur scarf and a large red handbag. The class was told to think of their worst fear, though Aurora was sure she didn’t have any, or at least none that sprang to mind. Failure, perhaps. She hated failing at anything, but she didn’t know if that could manifest, or indeed what it could possibly manifest as. She was scared to lose people, too, but she wasn’t sure there was any way for her to make that funny. There were a lot of small things she was scared of - rats freaked her out because they were disgusting, and she hated anything with holes in it, and maybe she’d admit to being scared of Snape just a little bit, too, or Voldemort. That thought hit her. She couldn’t think of a single way to make the Dark Lord appear humorous, either.

Maybe she’d stick a blonde wig on him and call it a day. That thought didn’t cheer her up, but then another lurched into her mind. Her father. She glanced at the wardrobe. She really, really didn’t want that Boggart to turn into him because how could she ever explain how utterly terrifying everything he symbolised was to her, and how could she ever find humour in the ways he’d destroyed her family?

“Everyone ready?” Everyone leaned forwards eagerly as Lupin opened the wardrobe and a shape lunged out, twisting sharply into the form of Professor Snape. It was clear it wasn’t Snape - he did not insult Neville, nor did he glare at Aurora or Potter like he always did - but his figure was still just as imposing.

Neville trembled, but Aurora felt immensely proud as he stuttered out, “Riddikulus!” And with a crack, the Boggart took on the clothing of Augusta Longbottom. Snape’s figure was very confused, and baffled by the class that had suddenly burst into laughter at the sight of him. Even Draco and Pansy were beside themselves at the sight.

“Wonderful!” Lupin beamed.

Aurora rolled up her sleeves as her classmates started to form a line before the Boggart. It turned to a rattlesnake, a mummy, a headless corpse, a giant spider, a bloody eyeball, a severed hand, and then Gwen’s became a Rottweiler that turned into a chihuahua, and then Aurora found herself at the front. There was a loud crack as the Boggart shifted, and she felt her stomach lurch. A second later, her father was staring down at her.

A few people screamed. She stood still, frozen in shock at the sight of him. He looked as unkempt as in his wanted posters, but there was something familiar about his face, the sharpness of his eyes, the turn on his nose, that reminded Aurora of her own reflection. He seemed more like her than he did in pictures, even the curve of his eyes the same. Her breath caught in her throat. The family resemblance made her want to throw up. She didn’t want to be like him, look like him, she didn’t want him to be here, she didn’t want anything to do with her. The idea of them bearing similarity... That was terrifying especially after what everyone said about her.

Murderer’s daughter. And here was the murderer himself, standing before her, sharp and dangerous but looking at her. Looking at her like he cared. Bile rose in her throat.

Lupin was ushering the class back, looking quite white. All eyes were on her, and though she was shaking - and hated herself for it too - Aurora tried to imagine him in a curly blonde wig and bright pink dress, something completely the opposite of herself “Riddikulus!” she cried, and with a crack, he took on that appearance. She managed a shaky laugh before hurrying away so that Pansy could take her place.

“Was that-“ Gwen started.

“Yes,” Aurora said quickly.

“Oh. I’m sorry-“

“Don’t be,” she said shakily, avoiding Gwen’s pitying gaze. She didn’t want anybody’s pity, nor did she need it.. She tossed her hair back with a breezy smile. “It’s quite funny, I’ve always wanted to see what my father would look like blonde. Maybe I should considering dyeing my hair the same colour.” She was sure if she ever saw herself as a blonde, now, she would simply die.

“I’m sorry,” Gwen whispered, “by the way, that we argued, I know you must be scared.”

That made the anger tick over in her chest. “Sure,” she ground out. Gwen looked at her uneasily and Aurora moved back, standing by Draco.

“I didn’t realise it’d turn into him,” he whispered, eyes wide and shining with worry. “Are you alright?”

“Course I am,” she said briskly, forcing a neutral smile. “It’s only a Boggart, after all.”

Professor Lupin made a start towards Aurora, but at that moment Potter was pushed to the front and his attention was diverted. He lunged in front of Potter, and the Boggart shifted again, becoming a strange silvery orb that hung in front of them. He shouted, “Riddikulus!” and it turned into a shiny, glittery Christmas bauble like the ones Arcturus had used to hang on the trees. “Forward, Neville, and finish him off!”

The Boggart changed back to Snape in Neville’s grandmother clothes and exploded as everyone but Aurora laughed in uproar.

Aurora breathed a sigh of relief when it was gone. She hadn’t expected the Boggart to have turned into her father, but now she wasn’t fully surprised. The thought of having to see him again, having anything to do with him - the failure of the family, the traitor who had caused the death of her mother and so many others - was one that haunted her even more so since his escape from Azkaban.

“I think that’s all for today,” Professor Lupin said briskly. “Everyone who handled the Boggart, take five points for your houses. Neville, take ten points, because you managed it twice.” He smiled. “Homework for next lesson is to read the chapter on Boggarts and kindly summarise it for me. That will be all. Aurora, could I have a word before your next class, please?”

Gwen sent her a sympathetic look which she hated; Draco, Daphne and Pansy raised their eyebrows; Theodore bit his lip in concern and Potter, predictably, glared at her. As if she’d done it on purpose.

She hung around the staff room as the others departed, holding her bag strap tightly. This was intensely awkward. She hoped Lupin didn’t think she’d made the Boggart take her father’s form on purpose to scare anybody, and yet she also felt embarrassed by the idea that he might realise she’d been genuinely scared.

“What is it, Professor?” she asked as evenly as she could, once the final prying Gryffindor had left the room.

Lupin smiled tightly. “I have to say, I was rather concerned by the form your Boggart took.”

“I didn’t mean it to!” Aurora found herself saying, before she could stop the words from spilling out. She looked down, abashed. “I’m sorry, I know I must have scared everyone.”

“That isn’t my main concern,” Lupin told her. His voice was surprisingly kind. “I understand this year must be... Difficult for you.”

She bit back a scathing comment about how difficult was an understatement. “I’m sure I can manage, Professor. I don’t intend to let this situation interfere with my schoolwork.”

The look on his face seemed caught between concern and amusement. “It is... A terrible thing, for a daughter to have to fear her father.”

She looked up at him, surprised by his heavy tone. “I’m not sure if you’re aware, he is a mass murderer and had spent twelve years in a prison designed to drive him more insane than he already was, so I don’t exactly think he’s going to have a soft spot for me just because I’m his daughter.”

Lupin looked rather taken aback by her frankness, and she wondered if in the heat of her shock she had overstepped. But then he smiled wanly at her. “I understand this is a difficult time for you, Aurora. I’m sorry you had to do that today.”

“Everyone else did it,” she said with a shrug.

“Even so.” He looked troubled as he picked up his briefcase. “Anything you need, Aurora. I’d like you to know that you can trust me, not only to help, but to refrain from judgement.”

She stared at him. “Thank you?” It came out as more of a question. Why did he care? “I mean, that’s very kind of you, Professor. But I’m alright, really.”

The look in his eye told her that Lupin didn’t think she was handling things alright at all. “I couldn’t help but notice your... Attitude with Mr Potter.”

That took her quite by surprise and she laughed shakily. “Well, he is a Gryffindor, Professor. I’m a Slytherin. We’ve never gotten along. Trust me, it is not a recent development.”

Somehow, this seemed to trouble Lupin even further and a deep crease formed between his brow. “Enjoy your evening, Aurora. And remember that homework. I expect a wonderful essay from you.”

She smiled confusedly at him as she left. “Thank you, Professor. I’ll see you in class.”


	38. Dark Shadows

It was the next evening before Aurora finally realised why Professor Lupin had seemed familiar to her. She was in the common room, reading on the sofa with Theodore while Draco, Pansy and Daphne squabbled over a card game. It was when she landed on the passage in her History of Magic textbook about the unique fusion of Victorian muggle and magical technologies in London, and the author wrote that ‘photographs, believed by some extreme Muggles to have Satanist and magical properties such as the ability to steal one’s soul, emerged in the Magical sphere as a phenomenon, that rare piece of Muggle genius that had fascinated wizards for centuries, the ability to capture a single moment’ that it hit her, entirely out of the blue.

She slipped off the sofa, causing alarm from Theodore. “Are you quite alright?” he asked. “You’ve got that look in your eye like you’re confused... But you don’t think you should be. And you don’t know why.”

She stared at him. “What?”

“Longbottom looks like that a lot. Maybe it’s contagious.”

“Do shut up, Nott.” He grinned but her heart was pounding. “I think I just need to check something. I’ll be back in a moment.”

Aurora hurried through to her room - thankfully, Gwen was holed up in the library with Robin Oliphant and Tracey Davis - and scrambled around in her bag of belongings taken from Grimmauld Place which she’d marked out to keep years ago.

There. He had aged a lot, as had the photo, but when she turned it over with shakings hands, Aurora saw the name Remus. Remus Lupin. She sank back onto her bed, staring. There couldn’t be many people called Remus, and he would be around the correct age. He’d looked at her father like he knew him. Oh, Merlin.

He had been his friend. He’d been a friend to James and Lily Potter too, then - a friend to Peter Pettigrew, to Frank and Alice Longbottom, presumably to Aurora’s own mother. Sudden guilt swept over her, needless and irrational but consuming nonetheless. She had, even unintentionally, conjured into this man’s classroom the image of a man who had killed his friends. She might not have cared so terribly about Potter’s reaction but all of a sudden, she didn’t know what to think about anything.

No wonder Lupin had been worried.

She flipped through photos, searching for his face over and over again until her stomach turned. Stella crept up onto the bed beside her, titling her head curiously. Aurora scratched her head absently. “Merlin,” she whispered, lying back on the bed and staring at the ceiling. The protective serpent necklace she’d taken to wearing always around her neck fell across onto the bed and the small pendant of Julius woke up to hiss at her. “Why is everything all such a mess?”

Stella of course didn’t say anything, but she did rest her head in the crook of Aurora’s elbow as if to say, I don’t know, but it’s okay.

Her eyes went to her drawers where she kept the family relics. She’d never wanted to keep these photos with them; they weren’t that same family and if she was honest she wasn’t sure why she even wanted to hold onto them. There was a lump in her throat but she swallowed it. Her friends would wonder where she was soon and she didn’t want anyone to walk in on her looking fragile. This was not a big deal, she told herself, not a big deal at all. It didn’t mean Lupin was at all relevant to her, nor she to him. It was just... Strange. And horrible. And she wished she was a little girl again, safe and happy with her family, her real family - Grandmother and Arcturus and Lucretia and Ignatius - instead of here and terrified that the father who had never loved her was going to kill her.

She picked herself up and forced herself to sit up straight. “I’m quite alright,” she said, the words stilted. The photos seemed to have burned themselves into her mind. What if Lupin knew her mother? Even a name would be something. But she told herself she shouldn’t care about her mother. She was a mudblood, the family hated her, she was nothing to do with the Black family at all. And then neither was her father but everyone thought he was because he’d turned murderer.

She needed something to distract herself, she decided, standing up and bracing herself. Enough of this moping and worrying and getting upset when she had no rational reason to be. She’d find something to occupy herself. Ballet, perhaps, though she was out of practice; there was a certain rigidity, a routine technique to it, which she liked.

The sugar plum fairy music ran through her mind. Originally, she knew the Nutcracker had been a Muggle ballet, but Uncle Arcturus had found something charming about their idea of magic, as had many wizards; he’d taken her to a magical performance of it, once, where real fairy lights had lined the curtains, and the backdrop was enchanted to move of its own accord, and the ballet dancers truly seemed to fly in their shoes. It had been beautiful. She was nothing like a sugar plum fairy dancer, but thefact she could still recall the familiar music brought a strange comfort to her, and it was with that resolve that she managed to fold the photos away into their bag, hide them under her bed and stroll back to the common room as if nothing had happened.

Theodore merely looked up, amused. “Find what you were looking for?” he asked, and she nodded.

“Oh, yes. It all makes so much more sense now. I’ve got a much better grasp of the photography. It’s a shame none of us took Muggle Studies.”

Theodore laughed. “Eh, we have all we need.”

At the table in front of them, Draco laughed loudly as one of Pansy’s cards burst into flame and she pouted. Aurora grinned feebly at the sight, But was still all too aware of Theodore looking at her. “What?”

“Something’s wrong,” he said plainly, “isn’t it?”

“What makes you say that.”

“I’m good at observing people.” He sighed, leaning back contemplatively. “And it would make sense.”

“I’m fine. Really. There’s an awful lot going on in my life, but I’m perfectly on top of it all and my studies keep me more than occupied.” He laughed. “What?”

“Nothing. Nothing.” Daphne shrieked as an exploding card jumped up to slap her in the face, momentarily distracting them both. “You just talk like that when you’re lying. It’s quite amusing, to tell how everyone lies. Draco’s voice always gets a bit higher, Pansy has this sort of breathiness in hers, Daphne laughs a little, Blaise never looks you in the eye, Lucille hunches her shoulders and Millicent can’t lie at all.”

Aurora stared at him in shock, wondering at what he thought he was talking about. It sounded like utter nonsense to her - even if, yes, Millicent was an awful liar and Draco’s voice always rose when he was trying to hide something.

“I don’t talk like anything when I’m lying, thank you very much. And I am perfectly alright.”

“Okay.” Theodore looked back down at his book. “Don’t talk to me about it if you don’t want to. I understand it, partially... But I know Draco and Pansy are both worried about you and you ought to be more honest with them.”

At that, Aurora was taken aback. How dare he tell her what to do? “Who do you think you are?” she asked. “I’m perfectly fine, and perfectly honest with myself and with my friends. If you don’t mind, I’d like to finish this homework.”

Theodore blinked, and drew back, looking away. He shifted further to the edge of the sofa, curled up, and didn’t look Aurora’s way again. She didn’t know what to do with that, and hated that she felt guilty when he was the one accusing her of hiding things. So what if she didn’t want to talk about what was going on right now? Who would?

She sighed but then couldn’t focus on her work. Her mind kept drifting back to the photographs, to her father, to Lupin, and then to the drawer where the family relics were confined, the serpent necklaces and the puzzle box among them. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to return to them. Instead she slipped off the sofa, knelt down between Draco and Pansy, and invited herself into their little game quite pleasantly, pretending she didn’t see the now too obvious looks her friends were throwing her way.

-*

On Saturday morning, before her first Quidditch practice of the new season, Aurora woke early, though the Slytherin dormitories were rarely bright. Gwen was still sleeping, but by the time Aurora had had her morning shower she seemed to have woken her up and the other girl was perched at the end of her bed.

“Can I help you?” Aurora asked as politely as she could manage through a stifled yawn.

Gwen nodded. “Er, I just wanted to say good luck with Quidditch practice. And I... Well, I hope everything’s alright?”

Aurora raised her eyebrows pointedly. “Alright?”

“Yes. I’m sorry for... Well, Robin says I was insensitive and should’ve tried to understand, and I don’t understand, but there you go.”

“Oh.” She blinked, oddly heartened by the apology. “Well, thank you.”

She went to her trunk, searching for her Quidditch robes, and did a check over her broom to make sure it was still in pristine condition. When she turned around, Gwen was looking at her expectantly and Aurora stared at her for a moment, wondering what she’d missed and trying to decipher the pointed look in her eyes.

“Oh!” She grabbed her broom, laughing half-heartedly. “Yes, sorry to you too. I don’t like arguing with you, and I am sorry that it I upset you.” She grinned. “I have to go or Marcus’ll make me do extra bench warmup for tardiness, and I have to start this year off right if I want to make the main team next year. See you at lunch, though!”

She didn’t quite appreciate the resulting look on Gwendolyn’s face.

On her way to the common room to meet Draco, she pondered if that had been enough. She didn’t think she’d really been the one at fault, so reciprocation should have been appropriate, but Gwen might not see it that way. But Aurora didn’t know how these things worked. Especially when she had no idea of the stance Gwendolyn was coming from.

“What are you worried about now?” Draco asked drily as she joined him by the door. “Don’t tell me it’s the Potions homework.”

“No, no, it’s not. It’s just Gwendolyn.”

“What’s she done now.”

“Apologised.” She winced. “And I don’t know how I’m meant to respond! So I apologised too, but I’m not entirely sure what for.”

Draco did a rather odd one-armed shrug. “Least you apologised. Broom on form?”

“As always.”

He grinned. “Shall we, then?”

There was truly nothing in the world like the Quidditch Pitch. Seeing the grass away in the breeze, the towers of the stands reaching into the cloudy morning sky, and her teammates assembled in emerald green together, clutching their brooms.

“Hurry up, you two,” Marcus Flint barked, as they were still both finishing off slices of toast on their way down. “And what’s with the arm, Malfoy?”

“Care of Magical Creatures,” he muttered, waving his good hand in the air. “That stupid oaf Hagrid.”

“I heard about the hippogriff,” Cassius Warrington said, grinning. “Looks like a sore one.”

“Are you going to be able to play?” Flint demanded.

“Probably.” Draco sighed dramatically. “If Madam Pomfrey thinks so. But it could go either way.”

Flint gave him a dubious look. “It was really savage,” Aurora told him. “That hippogriff has anger issues!”

“But can Malfoy play?”

Draco shrugged and then hissed in pain. Flint sighed, and Aurora glared at Miles Bletchley, who was laughing. “Not right now?”

With a groan of frustration, Flint turned to Aurora. “So now we have to use her?”

“I have a name.”

“Oh,” said Graham Montague, “we know.”

She tried to hide her scowl. “Well, I’m sure Draco will be fine to play. But I’d love to practice.”

Flint rolled his eyes and gave Draco a disdainful one-over which had Aurora’s skin crawling. She stepped slightly in front of Draco and said, “Is that all, or is there anything else we need to go over?”

“Don’t get cheeky with me, Black,” Flint warned, frowning.

She pursed her lips, catching Cassius’ eye behind Flint’s back. He seemed amused, but all the other boys were glaring at her. “Sorry,” she said softly, “that wasn’t what I meant to do, Flint.”

“Fantastic. Well, now that we’re all here, let’s get down to business. Huddle up.”

Aurora and Draco hurried over, slipping into the tight circle. Aurora wrinkled her nose - she had not missed the smell of teenage Quidditch players.

“This year, we have to maintain our streak. Now, last year was a write off through no fault of our own, but it’s Bletchley and I’s final year and we will not lose to Gryffindor, or anyone else for that matter.”

“Here’s to that,” said Bletchley, grinning. The other boys muttered agreement.

“We’re going to train every Saturday and Sunday morning, and every Wednesday evening. You had all better be punctual, on form, preferably not maimed, and most definitely not hungover.”

At this, he glared at Lucian Bole, who scowled in return. “It was one time and we didn’t even do anything.”

“We can save the alcohol for when we pulverise Gryffindor in our first match.” At this, Aurora grinned. “Which I think we can all agree, will be glorious. Chasers and Miles, we’ll go over this year’s new strategy. Bole, Derrick, you both like you need an arm workout, get started on practice. Malfoy... You can’t fly, can you?” Draco shook his head miserably and glared at the ground. “Sit on the bench and see if you can spot the sun coming up, it looks a bit like a Snitch. Black, fly laps or something and don’t let me regret having you as an alternate.”

Aye, aye, captain she thought derisively, and when they broke away, exchanged an exasperated look with Draco as he trudged back to the bench.

“Sorry,” she said, “I’m sure you’ll be fine in no time. They probably won’t ever play me.” She tried to keep that bitter not out of her voice, knowing exactly how little Marcus wanted to use her in their match.

“Obviously,” Draco muttered. “But I’m supposed to beat Potter this year. And with this...” He held up his injured arm with a scowl. “And I can’t train!”

“You’ll train soon,” Aurora was quick to assure him. “And you’ve been training all your life, you can do this.”

“Potter beat me last year.”

She struggled to reply. “Yes. But... He got lucky.”

Draco let out a derisive snort. “I’m not losing to him again.”

“You won’t.” She clapped him on the shoulder. “But you’re also not going to win by moping.”

“Black!” Flint bellowed across the pitch. “Get in the air!”

“Yes, Marcus!” Aurora shook her head and straightened up, grabbing her broom. “Your arm’ll be fine soon, I’m sure. Keep an eye on my form, will you? I can’t help but feel a little rusty.”

Then she jogged back out onto the pitch, where Cassius grinned over at her, and mounted her broom, taking to the sky. It was as freeing to be up here as it had always been, and the familiar sear of cold wind against her cheeks, its hands tangling her hair, was refreshing. It just felt right being up here, though the family ring on her finger seemed to burn, its silver aflame in the sunlight. She flew lap after lap, beaming at the feeling of freedom for once, but as she came into her dismount at Flint’s call, she caught sight of a dark shadow at the edge of the pitch.

Aurora pulled up, heart pounding. She hovered in the air. It had looked like a dog. Just like the one she’d seen at the Tonkses’. A cold terror ran through her, irrational but gripping.

There was no connection. She was paranoid of late, anyway. And she was tired. The wind and exhaustion was making her eyes play tricks on her. Aurora blinked, looking up at the clouds above her. When she looked down, the dog-shaped shadow was gone, and she steeled herself. She was just being silly now.

So she flew back down to the ground among the boys and put on a disaffected, cheerful smile. Still, even as they kept up practice drills and continued their flight, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something - whether the dog, a person, or something else entirely - was watching her.


	39. The Unexpected

She turned her father’s old pictures over on the bedside table and read the names off the back. Perhaps she’d hoped one of them might leap out at her or the ink would light up emerald and cause her to have a stunning revelation.

But none did. Because it would be completely ridiculous. And Aurora knew it was ridiculous anyway, to be so obsessed with looking for her mother’s name. She could be anyone. All she knew was that she had been a Muggleborn, her father had allegedly been in love with her, the family hated her... And she was murdered by the man who’d torn apart his own family for her.

It was fruitless and she knew that. She shouldn’t care. She just didn’t understand and she hated not understanding. No one else had understood it. She had been just old enough to remember her grandmother saying she didn’t know what had driven her useless eldest son to the murder of his own wife, that he was in far too deep with Muggle lovers and blood traitors to do it, and if he had really decided to redeem himself he would have come back to the family triumphant to become the heir he was meant to be, not vanished into obscurity with what was now the Black family’s last hope at a decent child to carry their name.

Aurora sighed at the memories. She wondered what her grandmother would say now. She would probably tell her not to bother her head about her wastrel father, and she would be right. She would also tell Aurora to stop asking questions and that she didn’t need to know about her mother, because none of them cared.

Arcturus would have told her to find out what she could, she thought, knowing she would never be satisfied with anything she learned. And when she had come back to him, upset because of what she had or hadn’t discovered, he would have told her not to cry and gotten a house elf to bring her hot chocolate and cake.

She swallowed thickly, and folded the pictures away again, slipping them into the very depths of her bag. Breakfast was soon and she needed to prepare herself. She opened her bedside drawer and slipped two of her snake necklaces around her neck for protection, as she had taken to doing any time she left her bedroom, and she gathered her books and quill and parchment into her bag, ready to go. The two pendants with Cygnus and Julius hissed as she made her way out of the dormitory, and only stilled when she met Draco and Blaise at the door of the common room. She rarely walked to breakfast alone anymore.

There was a space for them at the Slytherin Table between Pansy and Millicent, who was arguing with Gregory about something. When they sat down, Aurora couldn’t help but notice each set of eyes in the hall that had turned to look at her. It felt like more and more every day, even if she knew she was likely being paranoid about it. Potter was always glaring at her, which wasn’t exactly unusual, only more noticeable, and definitely disconcerting.

Clenching her jaw, she did her best to ignore them all, choosing instead to think about their first class of the day, which was Potions. The class wasn’t great by any means, but the content of her recent essay was at least somewhat fun to turn over in her head until it was time to go.

Potions was becoming a drag, recently, more so than usual. Perhaps it was the heat of the room, or Professor Snape’s ever-present glare, or Neville’s increasing reliance on her to fix his problems. Or maybe she was just in a generally terrible mood.

The class seemed to go on forever, especially since they were going to be graded on their combined work with their partner, a decision Aurora was sure Snape had made just to spite her. As a result, she was more anxious about her work than she would ever normally be, and by extension, Neville was all over the place, sensing both Snape’s usual hatred and Aurora’s heightened frustration.

“Don’t add the porcupine quills,” she told Neville sharply partway through, slapping his hand away from his cauldron. “You’ll ruin the whole thing.”

He gaped, staring between her and the cauldron with confused eyes. “But I thought-”

“You haven’t taken it off the heat for a start, and they go in after the fluxweed.” She sighed and wrestled control of the cauldron from him. Today they were going to be marked on their performance in pairs and she knew Neville was going to drag them both down if he didn’t manage to screw his head on straight soon. “Look, I’ll do it. You crush the beetles.”

His lip wobbled and he looked away. “You’re being mean today.”

“Oh, dear.” She couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of her voice. “I am so sorry.”

“You don’t have to be like this.”

“I just don’t want us to fail, Neville. Beetles.”

Sullenly, he went to crush the beetles. He eyed his results almost mournfully. “You’re mean to the others,” he said quietly.

“Sorry?” Aurora asked, stirring in fluxweed.

“Harry... Hermione... Ron... Everyone, really. You’re only really nice to me and your Slytherin friends.”

She huffed. “And? Do you want me to not be nice to you.”

“Well... No. I just don’t really understand why you can’t just be nice to everyone.”

“And is everyone nice to me?” she asked breezily, though her blood was beginning to boil. She urged herself to stay calm, concentrating on the soothing simmering of her cauldron.

“Well... They’re not... Not nice...”

“Not in front of you, perhaps. But, Neville, it really isn’t your business.”

“But it is my business! You’re my friend and so are they!”

“Are they? I don’t see any of them helping you pass Potions. Crush that beetle more, you need to get more juice out.”

“You’re doing it again.”

“Neville, I am just tired. I’m trying to scrape us a pass here.” She had to close her eyes for a minute to calm herself down. When she opened them, she glanced across the classroom to where Draco and Pansy were cheerfully stirring their cauldron, and then caught Theodore’s eye. He merely raised his eyebrows, but she knew what he meant. Why was she even still bothering with this?

“I just want you to get along...”

“We’re not going to get along, Neville. I don’t know where you get your ideas from but I’ve no intentions of trying to be chummy with Gryffindors just because you want me to. I’m doing you a favour so you can help me out in Herbology and nothing more.”

“But...” He seemed to have given up on the beetles entirely. Aurora, pulse racing in frustration, snatched them and the knife from him and crushed one under the blade. It was somewhat concerning how satisfying it felt. “I thought... You’re my friend.”

“Oh, piss off, I don’t have the time for this.”

“Language, Black,” said Snape’s silky voice. She jumped; he was right behind them. “Detention tonight.”

She winced. “Sir,” Draco called, “we have Quidditch practice tonight.”

Snape pursed his lips. “Very well. Tomorrow night, Black, three hours instead of two.”

Grudgingly, she said, “Thank you, sir.”

“And that will be five points from Gryffindor, too.”

“What?” Potter shouted at the same time as Weasley. “But that’s ridiculous! Black isn’t even a Gryffindor!”

“Five points from Longbottom,” Snape said, “for continuous pestering conversation in class.” Aurora stared at him. He was actually doing something helpful to her. “And another five from you both, Potter, Weasley, for disrupting class.”

Across the room, Draco snickered and Aurora made a vindictive smile before she noticed the look on Neville’s face.

“That wasn’t fair,” he muttered once Snape had moved away. “Harry—”

“Spoke out of turn and is an all around prat. Are you going to let me get on with this or not?”

He kept tight lipped for the rest of the lesson but Aurora felt worse by the end. She didn’t want to get Neville in trouble, especially not from Snape, but it did feel great to have Potter - and Gryffindor - lose out. Neville rushed from the room as soon as he could, followed by an urgent-looking Hermione Granger who threw a scathing look over her shoulder at Aurora, who merely sneered in return.

“Think you’re all that, do you?” Weasley snapped at her as she walked past.

She didn’t give him the time of day, breezing past without a word in order to catch up to Draco and Pansy. But her heart was pounding still. She didn’t have time or the energy to deal with these idiots today but that didn’t mean they didn’t get right under her skin.

“What d’you get out of it?” Potter asked her. “Making people miserable.”

“Do stop talking, Potter.”

“You think you can pick on Neville and get us in trouble for it just because you’re a Slytherin?”

“I think you get yourself into trouble perfectly well, Potter. As for Neville, I’m helping him.”

“That didn’t look like helping.”

She bit her tongue, not knowing what to say to that. If Neville had a bit of a thicker skin... But he didn’t. And it was frustrating, but she didn’t want to upset him anyway. “Why don’t you worry about yourself instead, Potter, hm?”

His face paled and she was momentarily satisfied before she found another Weasley blocking her vision. “Miss Black,” said the Head Boy, “I’m afraid we do not tolerate threats.”

Her mouth fell open. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Ten points from Slytherin.”

“My apologies...” She struggled to remember his name. Peter, perhaps? “Weasley. I think there’s been a misunderstanding. I was referring to Quidditch.” He raised his eyebrows. He didn’t believe her and why would he? She was a Slytherin and her father was an escaped murderer. Naturally, she was threatening Potter with death. If she was going to do that, she thought bitterly, she would have at least been a little more intimidating, and not done it in front of dozens of other students. “Do you mind? I believe lunch is meant to be rather good today.”

Without another word - but with a glare at both Potter and Ron Weasley - she flounced away. Footsteps followed her down the hall but it was only Theodore, and gradually she calmed herself down enough to let him speak.

“Are you alright?”

“No. I’m rather hungry, actually.”

He rolled his eyes and smiled almost fondly. It was aggravating. “You know, it’s not your fault Longbottom’s a wet blanket, or that Potter and Weasley are the world’s stupidest baboons in Gryffindor robes.” She laughed despite herself, feeling anger dissipate just slightly.

“I know. They just get under my skin. Everyone-“ She rethought. “No, most people do.”

“I get that. If anyone interrupts my reading I just want to hit them with the heaviest book I can hold.” Aurora laughed and paused in her step, leaning against a wall. “Why do you bother with Longbottom anyway?” Theodore asked. “It’s not like he’s much fun to be around. And that’s coming from me.” He shook his head. “I don’t get it. There are far better people you could keep company with in Potions. Any Slytherins, for a start.”

“I know,” Aurora told him with a sigh. “I really do. But I suppose... I feel guilty.”

Theodore looked her up and down assessingly. “Well, that’s rather stupid.”

“Maybe. It’s just... His parents and my family. I mean, not really my family, I didn’t know them... But still... I don’t know. I felt bad for him. And it’s not like he has any other friends.”

“Not surprising. But you don’t feel guilty about Potter. You don’t seem to feel bad for him.”

“I did. Originally, when I first met him and realised who he was. But he’s an arsehole.”

“So’s Longbottom.”

She cracked a smile. “Yes but he's... Potter’s an in your face sort of arsehole. Neville’s more... Sad.”

“Is sad really the main feature you look for in a friend?”

“No. It’s bloody annoying half the time, especially now. But I can’t afford to have any more people hate me this year. And I don’t want Neville to hate me.”

“The Gryffindors are going to hate you regardless.”

“Shut up.”

“They are, though.”

“Theodore, stop. I don’t want to think about all this.” She turned on her heel, making her way towards the common room. “I just wish it would go away.”

“That’s fair, I suppose. But you know you don't have to feel guilty about any of it.”

“I know.”

“It’s not your fault, anything your father or your cousin or your uncle did.”

“I know. And the thing is that I love my family, the family that I know. Not Sirius or Bellatrix or Regulus. But I know everyone hates me, hates all of us, for them.” She shook her head, staring pointedly ahead. “And I hate it.”

-*

While Arithmancy quickly became Aurora’s favourite class, she soon decided that Professor Lupin was one of her favourite teachers. He was actually fun, unlike most of them, while also being competent, unlike Professor Hagrid, who had been so spooked by his failure in the first lesson that he now only taught them about flobberworms, creatures so boring Aurora wasn’t even sure they could be counted as magical.

After Boggarts they studied Red Caps - which Robin and Gwen tried unsuccessfully to find in the disused dungeons - and Grindylows, which Pansy and Daphne both swore they’d seen floating past the window in the Slytherin common room. Aurora kept an eye out, but Millicent said they were probably shy now, since Pansy had scared it off. Nothing that Professor Lupin has said indicated they might be shy creatures, though, so Aurora wasn’t sure.

With Draco’s arm still hurt, Aurora got called in for a couple of Seeker practices. Though she did feel bad for her friend, there were few things better than the thrill of soaring through the air with the wind on her face and in her hair. Their opening match against Gryffindor was approaching fast, and Flint told her that if Draco couldn’t play, he was considering playing her instead. She did try to hide her excitement, but there was still nothing she wanted more than to play for her team - and to thrash Harry Potter in the process.

By the end of the month, while Aurora felt somewhat like she was flailing, she had one thing to look forward to: her fourteenth birthday. It was one bright spot in what was looking like a very bleak year, and so a few nights before - having conferred with Gwendolyn - she took to writing some very unnecessarily extravagant invitations on elegant, pale green writing paper addressed to Draco, Pansy, Daphne, Millicent, Blaise, Theodore, Gregory, Vincent, and Lucille.

You are cordially invited, she had written in her best and most elaborate calligraphy, with deep silver ink, to Aurora Black’s fourteenth birthday party this Monday evening, the twenty-seventh of September, at a quarter to midnight, in the girl’s’ rooms.

Yours, Aurora Black

She handed them all out early in the morning. Gwendolyn, who had been considerably quieter recently, had insisted upon Robin joining them, seeing as Aurora couldn’t very well not invite Gwen to join a party in her own room, and so Aurora invited him informally at the end of Care of Magical Creatures.

She was excited, but the Monday morning of her birthday, at breakfast, among the flurry of conversation and receiving presents and cards from her friends, an owl came soaring through the hall towards her. This wasn’t unexpected, since Dora had told her to keep an eye out for the Tonks’ present, which was distinctively wrapped in sparkly silver paper, but it was the owl which followed that surprised Aurora.

Curiously, she deliberated in which to open first. First Dora, Andromeda, and Ted, there was a bound collection of historical stories about the Hogwarts’ founders, along with a copy of the Chronicles of Merlin, a pair of emerald Quidditch gloves and - from Andromeda - a new pair of ballet shoes, with the suggestion that she ought to get practicing again. They were wonderful gifts, but she was all too aware of the other small box sitting beside it, which had just been deposited by a strange, harried looking owl. Everyone was staring at it like it was a bomb about to go off. Aurora didn’t want to touch it.

She wrapped up the last of her gifts from her friends - mainly an assortment of chocolate, sweets, and books - into her bag and stood up shakily. “I, er...” She paused, still staring at the box. “I need to get my Potions textbook.”

“I’ll come with you,” Draco said immediately, taking the box along with the package from the Tonks’. “We’ll see you all in Arithmancy.”

They hurried out the hall together, Aurora feeling rather faint. “I can’t look at it,” she said in a rush.

“You think it’s from... Him?”

“I don’t know. I just have a very bad feeling.”

Draco eyed the box suspiciously. “Yeah, me too.”

The common room was mostly deserted when they returned, since most of the students were at breakfast. The two of them slipped to the corner of the room, and Aurora sank into a chair. Her hands trembled slightly as she took the box from Draco. Her stomach swam.

“It sounds like there’s something in it,” he said, like he was trying to be helpful.

“Yes, I got that,” Aurora said faintly.

“Do you want to open it?”

“No.” She shook her head, staring at the brown-wrapped box. “Not really.”

Draco pursed his lips. For quite some time, neither of them did anything. Then, wanting to get it over with and be able to throw the box out as soon as she could, Aurora tore the paper off to reveal a small black wooden box. It was cold to the touch, and brought a lump to her throat.

“What’s in it?”

“Draco, I don’t know, if haven’t opened it.”

He scowled and drew out his wand to point it at the box. “If it’s something dangerous, I’ll blow it up.”

“Not while I’m holding it, I hope.”

“No. You can throw it on the floor. No one’ll notice if the rug gets singed, it’s ugly anyway.”

Aurora smiled faintly. “I’m going to open it,” she whispered. “I have to know what’s in it. Otherwise it could be cursed to strangle me in my sleep.”

Before she could talk herself out of it, she propped up the lid of the box to reveal a very delicate silver chain necklace with a small crescent moon pendant. It was placed on top of a folded piece of parchment, and when Aurora, feeling like she was going to be sick, unfolded it, she had to hold onto Draco’s arm for support.

This belonged to your mother.

That was all, but it was enough to make Aurora feel faint. He was taunting her, she thought immediately, and snapped the box shut violently. “It’s a threat,” she said, standing up. “It’s a threat. He killed my mother, he’s saying - he’s going to kill me.”

“He won’t,” Draco said, but he didn’t look like he believed himself. “He can’t.”

Aurora almost threw the box into the fire, but stopped herself. She dug her gloves out of her bag and gingerly picked up the necklace.

“You should tell Professor Snape,” Draco told her. “If you think it’s dangerous.”

“Of course it’s dangerous,” she snapped. “He sent it to me! But Snape won’t help! He hates me!”

“Well... Yes.” He frowned. “But he’s still a teacher.”

“Do you think I should tell Dumbledore?”

Draco scoffed. “Dumbledore? What’s he going to do?”

“I don’t know... He probably knows how to deal with these things. And he can tell the Ministry, too, he’s working with Fudge.” She stared at the necklace. “Do you think it really was my mother’s?”

“Dunno.” Draco shrugged. “I doubt he would have kept it all these years, would he?” He sighed. “He’s just trying to scare you.”

She nodded, staring at the flickering of the fire. “I know. I know.” She shook her head, feeling a burning in her chest. “What do I do with it?”

The bell rang and they ignored it. “I don’t know,” Draco admitted. “Don’t keep it near you. Get rid of it.”

“Yes.” She didn’t move. She kept staring at the necklace. If it was her mother’s, why had her father kept it? He was even sicker and messed up than she’d thought - if that were possible - keeping the possessions of his victim as souvenirs to one day taunt their daughter with. “I’ll get rid of it.”

Draco squeezed her shoulder gently. “He’s not going to hurt you. I won’t let him.”

She laughed humourlessly. “He’s not going to stop for your sake, Draco. You’re really not the most intimidating wizard in the world.”

“I can cast a decent Stupefy.”

“Sure you can.” Aurora sniffed and dropped the necklace back into its box, which she snapped shut. “I need to take this to Professor Dumbledore, don’t I?” Draco pulled a face. “Or Professor Lupin... No.”

She shook her head. “I can’t tell him.”

“Why not?”

“I just can’t.”

Draco frowned. “Well, you shouldn’t touch it.”

“No.” She shook her head. “Definitely not.”

They both stared at the necklace box, in some silent stalemate. Aurora said, “It’s going in the trunk until I can decide what to do with it. There are protective enchantments on that thing.” She had to be practical about these things, she thought. She ought to keep it, somewhere, until she understood what her father was trying to achieve. And who knew - it might even lead her to him. And with this taunt, this insult, there was an even stronger part of her that wanted to find him and wring his neck for all that he had done to her family.

It took only a minute for her to wrap the box carefully and bury it in the depths of her trunk, before slamming the lid shut. Draco was waiting outside and it was with great relief that she took her cousin’s arm. He was some comfort, at least.

“Just try to focus on your birthday,” was his advice as hey headed to their first class of the day. “This is what he wants. For you to be upset.”

“I’m not upset,” she said shortly.

Draco raised his eyebrows. “You could’ve fooled me.”


	40. Break In

With tension ramping up, Aurora had two releases. Quidditch, and ballet. When Gwen was out of the room, she would take the opportunity to work through an exercise or two and just breathe. There was a beautiful structure to the style that she couldn’t get from anything else, and it kept her going.

On a Sunday afternoon, with the lake darkening outside the window, she finished a fondue exercise and sank down onto her bed. She was by no means good. Maybe if the wizarding world - or Hogwarts, for that matter - had any decent infrastructure for dance education she could have been better, but the movements came back to her nonetheless, and the feeling of being in that headspace, not worrying about anything else, was freeing.

Working through a cooldown, Aurora’s eyes drifted to her trunk where the necklace her father had sent had been buried. She hadn’t dared touch it. There was a great part of her that wanted to throw it into a fire. But as far as she could tell there was no curse or anything dangerous on it, and that frustrated her. There had to be something. Unless all her father wanted was to scare her, in which case he was succeeding.

Until she could work out what was wrong with it and what exactly her father was playing at, she had to keep it. It was meant for her, he was coming for her, and for that reason, she had to be the one to stop him. She had to be the one to kill him - if it came to that.

Most of her time was consumed by that and studying. It was easier to drown herself in Ancient Runes and Arithmancy and Transfiguration than it was to contemplate the reality of the world outside the walls of Hogwarts. Everyone kept telling her she needed to get out more. That only annoyed her.

Neville was still sitting by her in Potions, which was actually more of an annoyance than anything, but if she told him to bugger off now it would make everything worse and, frankly, she didn’t have the time to deal with him or the reaction it would surely gain from Potter and his little fan club. Relief came in the form of Quidditch practice. It was a time to be free, and with the first match against Gryffindor coming closer and closer, it offered plenty of an outlet for her ever-present anger. She savoured her imagination and the look on Potter’s face if either she or Draco managed to steal the Snitch from him. She kept telling herself that if Slytherin won the match, all would be right with the world. It was a lie of course - but it was comforting.

Before that, though, came Halloween. She finished her homework on the Friday so that she could enjoy the whole weekend; on Saturday she would have her first Hogsmeade trip, then the Halloween feast, and then the Slytherin House initiation. Last year it had been suitably subdued after the Petrification of Mrs Norris, but that only meant that everyone was even more excited for this year.

She, Pansy, and Daphne had created an itinerary of all of the shops they wanted to visit. There was Gladrags Wizardwear, Dervish and Banges, Schrivenshaft Quill Shop, Honeydukes Sweetshop, Gadolfo’s Beloved Bookshop (that was Aurora’s idea mainly), Floribert’s Jeweller’s Shop, and Bavo’s Boutique. The three of them set off together with promises that they would meet Draco, Lucille, Blaise and Millicent at the Three Broomsticks in the afternoon.

All of them obsessed over the pretty sets of silk and lace robes in Gladrags, the lovely scarves, shawls, and a whole manner of assorted clothes in Bavo’s, and the pretty jewellery in the windows of Floribert’s. “This would match my eyes,” Daphne said, pointing to a sapphire necklace. “Don’t you think?”

“The stones would,” Aurora said assessingly. “But they’re rather large; you’d suit something smaller and more delicate, I think.”

“I like this ring,” Pansy said, gesturing to a golden band with a diamond. “It’s lovely.”

“And far too expensive and fancy for you,” Daphne said.

“It is not,” Pansy said primly, but Aurora privately agreed with Daphne. “Do you think Draco would like it?”

“Who cares what Draco thinks?” Daphne said airily. “He has no fashion sense, Pansy.”

They spent simply forever in the jewellery shop, to the extent that Aurora felt very rushed in the bookshop and couldn’t adequately browse the Arithmancy section as she wanted to. Pansy, whose interest in the subject had been quickly dwindling, got lost in a section on fashion of the witch trials - which had gotten a lot of witches into a lot of trouble - and Daphne was left unamused in the doorway, hauling them back to the other side of the village where the Three Broomsticks was.

They were nearly there when Aurora heard a loud bark and nearly jumped out of her skin, turning around. She blinked in surprise. A thin, ragged black dog was standing at the corner of the street, staring at her. It looked just like the dog that had been in the Tonkses’ garden, and the resemblance startled her. “What is it?” Pansy asked, stopping just ahead of her.

“This dog,” she said, and Daphne gasped when she realised what she was looking at.

“Aurora, that’s the Grim! You have to get away from it!”

“It’s not the Grim,” Aurora told her, though nerves crept through her. “It’s just a dog.”

“They’re omens of death!”

“Its eyes are creepy,” Pansy said with a shudder. “It looks like a stray. Aurora, don’t go near it.” But she couldn’t stop herself from taking a few steps forward. “It’ll have fleas!”

“Aurora,” Daphne said urgently, “Don’t you know what a Grim is? This is an awful omen, you ought to get away from it.”

“If its an omen then it won’t make much of a difference how close I am,” Aurora said, but she still kept her distance. Something about the eyes...

“Arcturus always said omens are a lot of nonsense and I agree. Divination isn’t real magic, it was just made up by Muggles who wanted to feel more important than they actually are and so decided certain symbols have certain power so they can try and rationalise magic and pretend they have a part in it. Arithmancy is much more reliable.” She frowned at the dog nevertheless. It was a bit creepy, not only because of its resemblance to the dog she’d seen at the Tonkses’. And the fact that she’d seen an eerily similar shadow at Quidditch practice. She shivered remembering it.

“I’m freezing,” Pansy said, rolling her eyes. “I don’t want a theory lecture. Let’s go inside already.”

The Three Broomsticks was cozy inside, and smelled slightly sweet. They spied Draco, Blaise and Theodore already in a corner booth together and so hurried over. The boys glanced up as the girls approached; they’d already gotten them butterbeers. Aurora smiled gratefully at Draco as she took a seat beside him. “Have fun?” she asked lightly.

“As much fun as you can have when Crabbe and Goyle are trying to steal your chocolate,” Draco told her grumpily, and she laughed at the pouty look on his face. “No sign of Potter, then?”

“Looks like he’s kept to the rules,” she said and Draco scowled; he’d hoped to see him in trouble. “For once.” It had been rather amusing to witness Potter’s attempts to persuade Filch and McGonagall to allow him to Hogsmeade without a permission slip. She wouldn’t be surprised if he turned up at some point, though. “You wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had, those two kept me in the jewellery shop forever!”

“Like you weren’t looking, too,” Pansy retorted. “We saw some really lovely pieces, Draco.”

Draco looked like he couldn’t care less. “I found this rather funny Sneakoscope in Dervish and Banges. Instead of whistling, it makes a trumpet sound.”

“Well, I suppose that is an easier way of getting someone’s attention.”

“Yeah. We were in Zonko’s too - look, purple powder. Anyone you put it on, all they see’s purple. Could be useful against Gryffindor.”

He had seemed even more determined to prove himself since Flint mentioned Aurora could take his place. “I suppose, but it would be rather obvious you’d tampered with the game.”

“I bet there’s nothing in the rules about it, though. They wouldn’t think to create a rule for something so specific.”

“No, they’d have to ensure you couldn't tamper with the Seeker’s sight. Or any players, it could get dangerous.”

Draco pouted. “Well, I thought it could be a fun idea.”

“We can always look up the rulebook,” Aurora told him, grinning, and he brightened a little. “Provided you can play?”

He looked sullenly at his arm. “I want to be my best against Potter. I should have beaten him last year and I didn’t, and I need to beat him this time!” There was a bitter determination in his voice, of the sort Aurora hadn’t heard before.

As Millicent and Lucille arrived and got their own drinks, the conversation turned towards the initiation that would be happening tonight. They kept their voices low and hushed so any passing rival students couldn’t hear - this was strictly Slytherin business. “Martin Whitman told me they’ve to bring something back from Dumbledore’s study,” Lucille said hushedly.

“That’s too far,” Blaise put in. “If they got caught, then they would be given the ultimate punishment, no one would do it.”

“That’s exactly why it would be a challenge,” Aurora reasoned. “How much trouble would one of us have gotten in for all the things we did on our initiation? They have to learn how to take risks and minimise their chances of being caught.”

“Apparently they’re going to have to recreate a relic of Morgana,” Pansy added. “That’s what Thea told me.”

“Does anyone have reliable sources?” Theodore asked with a long-suffering sort of sigh, and Pansy glared at him.

“Thea Rookwood is a perfectly reliable source, thank you very much, Theodore.”

“Isn’t she the one who started that rumour about Snape being a Holyhead Harpy?”

“I think that was a joke.”

“Well,” Millicent said, “I overheard Loraine Howell - the seventh year prefect - telling Jacqueline Abbott that they’re going to make them work together. All of them.”

“Together?” Aurora raised her eyebrows. “That’s a new one.”

“Teamwork has always been important,” Daphne mused. “But what are they going to?”

“Steal the sword of Gryffindor from Dumbledore’s study.” Millicent sat back, looking very pleased with herself. “It fits with what Lucille just told us. I think it’s true.”

But they did not get to find out that night what the upper years had in store for the first years. For they had barely gotten back to their room and into their night clothes when the alarm was raised, the prefects came running, and Professor Snape coul he heard barking from the common room that they were all to go to the Great Hall immediately.

“What’s going on?” Draco wondered aloud as Aurora and Gwen joined the rest, having run from their room. He’d gone rather pale. “What’s happened this time?”

“I bet it’s something involving Potter,” Aurora said bitterly. First the troll, then Mrs Norris. Definitely something to do with Potter. Then a worrying thought hit her. What if it was something to do with her father and Potter? What if her father...

“Come on,” she said tensely, and held Draco’s hand tight. He looked at her in surprise, glancing at their hands in question. “They wouldn’t get us out of the dorms unless something really major had happened. We need to stick together.”

No one outright said it, or at least not in front of her, but Aurora could tell the other students all thought it was something to do with Sirius Black, too. Had he been sighted nearby? Had he gotten into the castle? Had he gotten to Potter? Was he coming for her next?

The Gryffindors were already in the Great Hall when the Slytherins arrived, all of them looking nervous. Colin Creevey jumped out of the way when Aurora passed him and she clenched her fist. Draco noticed the tension and sent Creevey a glare that had him scurrying all the way over to Ginny Weasley, whispering in her ear. “Don’t scare the Gryffindors,” she whispered. “That’s all I need, one of them to go running scared to Dumbledore.”

“He was scared anyway,” Draco said, and he was right. Aurora tried to make sure she didn’t look scared as she and her friends sat down in a corner of the hall, whispering to each other.

“Does anyone know what’s happening?” Gwen whispered frantically.

“If we did, we would have said so,” Pansy said, but she looked even paler than Gwen did. “Oh, this is going to disrupt the initiation again, isn’t it? I can’t believe it!”

“Shush,” Aurora said, for one of their prefects - Loraine Howell - was headed in their direction, and she wanted to see if they knew anything.

“What’s going on?” Draco demanded to know. “Why have we been dragged out of the dungeons.”

“Apparently,” Howell said in a low voice, “Sirius Black tried to get into Gryffindor Tower while we were all at the feast. He’s destroyed the portrait they use to get in and out.”

Aurora felt numb and nauseous. That was her father. He’d snuck into the school under everyone’s noses and gotten as far as the entrance to Gryffindor Tower. He’d gone after Potter, that much was clear, and it must have been purely out of luck that he hadn’t gotten in and that he hadn’t hurt anyone. The one night they’d all be downstairs at the feast. If he’d come across anyone, who knew what he might have done to get his hands on that password? To get his hands on Potter? What if he’d tried to get into the Slytherin common room first, what if he’d tried to attack her? What if he’d waited until they should be asleep, what if he’d done it when their first years were running about the castle, what if he’d killed someone?

“Aurora,” Draco said, nudging her knee. His eyes were wide with worry. “Aurora.”

She came to her senses quickly, though it felt like she’d just been hit over the head. “What? How - how did he get in?”

Howell sighed. “We don’t know. Professor Dumbledore would like to speak with you, though.”

This was what she was afraid of. Her heart tumbled into her stomach and she felt like she might throw up everything she’d eaten at the feast. “Now?”

“He says it will only take a moment.” Howell looked assessingly at her. “Go on, Black.”

She got rather clumsily to her feet, and went to the other end of the hall, where Dumbledore appeared deep in conversation with Professor McGonagall. She could feel all the others students’ eyes on her as she passed; some scared, others accusatory. It was rare for Aurora to want to hide, but right now she truly did.

“Professor,” she greeted mildly. “Headmaster. I was told you wanted to speak with me?”

McGonagall looked very worried, but Dumbledore smiled calmly. “Ah, yes, Aurora. As you may have heard by now, your father has broken into the castle.”

“Dumbledore,” McGonagall cut in. “I am not sure this is the time... The children...”

“Loraine Howell told me,” Aurora said, tightening her jaw. “She said he went to Gryffindor Tower.”

“I thought it prudent to ask, if you had any idea about this?”

She stared at him, almost flinching. “No, sir,” she said coldly. “I didn’t have any idea that my father, who I have not seen or had any contact with in twelve years, was going to break into Hogwarts castle, nor did I help him, if that’s what you think.”

“I did not accuse you of anything, Aurora,” Dumbledore said pleasantly.

“You as good as did.”

McGonagall looked disapproving of Aurora’s tone, but didn’t tell her off. “You are quite sure, you haven’t heard anything or seen anything to suggest how your father may have intruded?”

“No,” she said sharply, folding her arms. “Why would I have? Far as I know, he could very well have been trying to kill me too. I’ve been in Hogsmeade all day, and I think if he was hanging around there someone else might have seen him, so I don’t know why you’re only asking me.”

“I only asked to make sure, Aurora.” Dumbledore smiled grimly. “If you have any ideas, I urge you to tell me. If your father is nearby, he may attempt to contact you-“

“Or kill me.”

“Please, Miss Black,” McGonagall said crisply, in a warning tone. “Dumbledore, I think we can leave this for now. Let us begin our search.”

Aurora gave McGonagall a grateful look, but when she turned to return to her friends, even more of the students were staring at her, and those just before her had gone rather quiet, like they had been straining to eavesdrop. She tried not to glare, because that wouldn’t help her case at all, but she felt bitter as she made her way back to the others.

“What did old Dumbledore have to say?” Draco asked.

“Oh, he only wanted to accuse me of harbouring a mass murderer,” she said with fake lightness. Her bitter look betrayed her. “Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Dumbledore’s an idiot,” Pansy said primly. “I’ve been saying he’s losing his marbles for ages now.”

She cracked a grin. “Yeah. Thanks.”

But as she looked around the settling hall, she could tell Dumbledore was not the only one who thought she might have something to do with it. She shouldn’t be surprised, but she did find herself oddly hurt by the venomous and accusatory glares of her fellow students. They didn’t matter, she reminded herself, glancing at the small group gathered around her. She had her friends, and they knew her better than anyone else. Draco gave her a warm and comforting smile. “They’ll catch him,” he promised, intertwining their pinkie fingers. “Don’t worry.”

“I can’t not worry,” Aurora sighed in response, leaning her head on her cousin’s shoulder. “He could still be here.”

“We’ll protect you,” Millicent said with conviction.

“Exactly,” Pansy said haughtily. “That blood traitor isn’t getting anywhere near our Aurora.”


	41. Rumour and Revelation

The next few days were about as close to hell as Aurora could get. Everywhere she went, people were sharing rumours and conspiracy theories about her father, and about her. Some theories she didn’t mind, because they were too absurd to pay heed to, such as the idea proposed by a Hufflepuff that Aurora’s father could turn into a flowering shrub to hide himself, but others cut too close to home. If she heard another person say that she helped him into the castle, she was going to hex them, regardless of what that might do for her case.

“They’re all idiots,” Pansy declared, scowling across the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom at Potter, who had for his part refused to even look at Aurora over the last few days. She didn’t particularly care, because he had never been someone she wanted to talk to, but she hated that everyone really thought so badly of her. Maybe she’d given them reason to. She knew she’d never been the kindest person, but everyone assumed the worst of her the moment her name was read out at the Sorting and she was placed in Slytherin, so she had had precious few reasons to prove them wrong. The list of people whose opinions she really cared about was short: Draco, Pansy (who had never had the opportunity to judge her on her father’s crimes), Gwen, the Tonkses, and perhaps Robin, and Professor Lupin. Anyone else, no matter how they whispered about her, didn’t really matter. She still hated the misinformation.

They were hell enough, with everyone eyes, it seemed, constantly fixed on Aurora. Everyone seemed to whisper behind her back, to afraid to say anything to her face. But it was Tuesday morning that truly turned Aurora’s stomach.

She hadn’t quite anticipated the speed with which the news of her father’s break in would reach the general public and the Daily Prophet; nor had she anticipated the reaction to her.

Not only, read the article, written by one Rita Skeeter, does Sirius Black pose a brutal threat to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but it has recently come to the Prophet’s attention that Black’s own daughter is in fact a student and resident at the school, in the very same year as the famous Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter. In light of recent events and both Black and Potter’s ties to the Wizarding War and the demise of Lord Voldemort, readers and parents must surely be asking themselves if their children are safe in such an environment. Is it right of Albus Dumbledore to allow such a child to be resident in a school with many young and vulnerable children? Our sources rumour that the younger Black and Harry Potter are rivals at the school, both in academics and on the Quidditch Pitch, both areas in which Potter excels. Therefore, we must ask if Aurora Black has any role in her father’s break in, and if so, how can Headmaster Dumbledore justify her presence at Hogwarts at this most dangerous time?

She had gone entirely cold while reading, as had her tea. Aurora’s eyes glazed over, and the chatter of the hall became overwhelmingly loud. She was sure everyone was talking about her. And when she looked up, it seemed half the Slytherin table, if not half the whole of the Great Hall, were staring at her, watching for a reaction.

Aurora crumpled the newspaper in her fist.

“Aurora...” Draco’s voice said softly from her side. Her breathing came ragged and her chest burned bitterly. Across the hall, she could see the look on Potter’s face, on Neville’s face, on Granger’s face, all reflecting the same expressions on everyone looking at her right now. Either contempt or fear. She wasn’t sure which one she hated more.

“I’m fine,” she growled, glaring at the table. “Rita Skeeter clearly is not a good journalist.”

“Are you sure you’re okay? You’re not—”

“I’m entirely okay.” Her voice almost squeaked at the end and she winced. “But I would like to work on my Arithmancy homework before class.”

She stood up, rattling the table inadvertently, and even more faces swivelled to look at her. But Aurora felt completely numb. She refused to look at anyone as she left the hall, and didn’t pay any heed to the footsteps behind her or Daphne and Lucille calling her name as they passed in the opposite direction.

She didn’t make it to the library. She paused by the deserted Defense Against the Dark Arts corridor, feeling blessed that she was alone at last. Tears of frustration did prick her eyes but she refused to let them fall. “Don’t bloody cry,” she muttered to herself, shaking her head.

“Aurora?”

At the sound of Professor Lupin’s voice, Aurora started, and stared at him when she turned. Perhaps she had expected to see judgement there, or hatred, but instead in his eyes she only saw concern. “Would you come inside for a moment?”

She didn’t want to. She didn’t want to talk to anyone, but her legs moved almost mechanically towards the classroom, and she slipped inside with Lupin. It was strange to be in there alone in the quiet. Lesson plans and unmarked essays were stacked neatly on a desk in the corner of the classroom.

“Would you bring some of those over here for me?” he asked pleasantly, and again she did as she was told, strangely removed from what she was actually doing. Aurora placed a stack of essays on Lupin’s desk. “I’m not handing out the marks until tomorrow, but you got an E on your last essay. I rather enjoyed it.”

She smiled numbly. “Thank you, Professor.”

There was a pause of quiet and then he said, “I read the Daily Prophet this morning.”

“Most people did.”

He sighed and leaned against his desk. “I don’t quite know what I can say that will help you. But what I can say, is that people will judge others for any reason they can find. That doesn’t mean you are what they think you are, nor does it mean you should become it.”

“I’m not,” Aurora ground out. “Professor.”

His answering smile was feeble. Indeed, he did appear rather wan, as though he hadn’t gotten enough sleep the past few nights. Though, Aurora imagined, most people had. She certainly hadn’t felt rested since Saturday.

“This will pass,” Lupin told her eventually. “Your father will be found and brought to justice. You won’t have to be scared of him.”

“I know,” she whispered. “But that doesn’t mean he won’t... Follow me. Him being in Azkaban won’t make people forget that I’m his daughter, after all.” Another question was on the tip of her tongue, one which she didn’t dare to ask.

Lupin made a move towards her, as though he thought to try and comfort her, but seemed to think better of it. He frowned and closed his eyes. “Professor,” she said quietly, “I know you knew him.”

His eyes snapped open and his face seemed to pale fifty shades. “How do you—”

“I saw you in a picture. I didn’t realise at first, but I recognised you.” She turned sheepishly towards the ground, cheeks aflame. It had been a foolish thing to mention and yet some part of her just wanted someone to know. And there were things she wanted to know, too. “Did you know my mother?”

At that, Lupin paled even further. He seemed to fumble to keep a grasp on the desk. “I...” His voice came out hoarse. “I did, indeed, Aurora.”

“Was she...” She didn’t even know what she wanted to ask. What could she ask? She imagined her grandmother’s voice telling her not to ask questions, that her mother was irrelevant. But looking up at Professor Lupin, perhaps one of the last people alive and sane who truly knew her mother, she just wanted assurance that at least one of her parents was worth being related to. “What was her name?”

At that, he looked like he was going to faint. “I’m sorry?”

“My mother.” She didn’t dare meet his eyes. “I, um, I never knew her name. My family didn’t talk about her.”

“Oh. Oh, Aurora, I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t want you to pity me,” she said sharply. If Lupin was bothered, he didn’t care to say so. “I just want to know. It’s relevant to my Arithmancy class, you see.”

There was a moment in which she thought Lupin wouldn’t tell her, or else that he would order her to get out of his classroom. But then the name fell from his lips.

“Marlene.”

She didn’t know what she had expected. Some sense of recognition, some innate understanding of herself? Instead all that Aurora felt was a little plummet in her stomach. “Oh.”

“Marlene McKinnon. She was a Gryffindor.”

“I’d thought so.”

“She was a wonderful woman.”

“I’m sure she was.”

She didn’t know what else to say. Lupin kept looking at her with awful, pitying eyes. “Do you think... I mean, do you have any pictures of her?”

Lupin raised his eyebrows. “I’m afraid I don’t carry pictures from my school days,” he said, and Aurora nodded, stomach sinking slightly. “But I can tell you what she looked like.” A small smile. “She was tall, outgrew all us boys. Her eyes were brown, just like yours, and they were both the kindest and most mischievous eyes I’d ever seen.” Aurora felt her cheeks flush. “Her hair was red and ridiculously curly. And she always wore this leather jacket.” He smiled fondly and Aurora shifted with unease. “She was quite marvellous, your mother.”

“Right,” she said stiffly, unable to look him in the eye. “Thanks.”

She didn’t know what else to do, so she hoisted in her bag like she was preparing to leave. Lupin stopped her. “She would be proud of you,” he said just before she made, though Aurora couldn’t help thinking it was just a kind lie. It was the sort of thing everyone would say to someone who had lost a parent. But Aurora had no idea what her mother would be proud of, and she certainly had no wish to make her father proud.

The thought was oddly freeing.

“Thank you, Professor,” she said quietly, with a small smile, and with a nod between them, she left.

-*

There was one reprieve, shortly after Halloween. As the weather worsened in the days leading up to Slytherin’s opening game - against Gryffindor - Draco moaned spectacularly about it and his arm injury. Flint had Aurora doing drills with them in practice, while Draco grumped on the benches. “We’re going to have to make a decision,” Flint told them at the end of practice. “The weather’s shit, Malfoy’s arm’s shit, and we want to beat Gryffindor. We can forgo the match, based on an injured Seeker.”

Aurora stared between him and Draco, who gave her a small nod. They had discussed this eventuality already.

“I can play,” she said quickly, looking back at Flint.

“That’s a tricky decision to make though, Black. We don’t know if you’re good enough.”

“Well, you won’t know until you let me play.” She stepped up, hoping her boldness might pay off. “Will you? There’s no point having a reserve if you don’t use me, and if you don’t play me then the other teams will take that as a sign of weakness and a lack of faith in your squad and training.” Flint gave her an assessing look and she added before she could back down, “Plus, the whole school’s terrified of me, including Potter. Intimidation tactics always come in useful.”

For a second, Flint looked sour, but then broke into an uncharacteristic grin. “I like your thinking, Black. How’s about we put it to a vote: who says Black should play against Gryffindor?”

Draco raised his hand, settling Aurora a little - no matter how much she wanted to play, she was glad Draco wasn’t hurt by it - as did Flint, then Miles Bletchley, then Cassius Warrington. Peregrine Derick slowly raised his own hand, and she broke into a grin. Graham Montague pulled a face, but she didn’t care. Flint turned to her with an expression between a grimace and a smile. “Then it’s decided. I’ll let Snape and Hooch know. Black, take a shower, and make sure you put in some extra training before the game. I don’t want you getting sloppy - and this is only for one match. If you lose...”

“I won’t,” she said confidently, clenching her fists. “Potter isn’t going to know what hit him.”

As always in the leadup to the Slytherin-Gryffindor match, tensions were high between the two houses. This was only heightened by the fact that both captains would be leaving at the end of the year and were desperate to beat the other, and that Potter had discovered Aurora was being played as Seeker and had taken to hating her even more than he already had. The usual sniping between the houses blossomed into something of a turf war. Anywhere Aurora went, she was looking over her shoulder for approaching Gryffindors who might try to hex her, and the other team members weren’t much better off.

It took all of her self-control not to turn around and hex Alicia Spinnet when she made a loud comment about how Aurora was the ‘last resort’ and wasn’t a threat anyway, but she had to keep her cool. She wouldn’t put it past the Gryffindors to get her banned if she tried anything, especially given the current situation with her father.

All she wanted to do was win. She trained by herself every evening, forcing herself to go faster and higher, training her eyes to catch any small movements. A few days before the match, she was beginning to grow more and more confident. Potter was good, but she had a better broom, and her team was brilliant, too. The win against Gryffindor wasn’t in the bag, and it would be silly to believe so, but she thought she had a pretty good chance. The sun was almost set by the time she finished her training, touching down on the pitch and gulping down a bottle of water. She was sweaty and tired, but it felt good.

She had just gathered her cloak and gone to put the practice Snitch back in the store cupboard when something caught her eye. That big black dog was staring at her again, with those horrid and unnerving eyes. It seemed a lot creepier in the darkness, and Aurora kept a tight grip not only on her broom but on her wand as she approached. “Have you been following me?” she asked in a quiet voice.

The dog let out a low but soft growl, and raised a paw to rest on her foot. She glanced down, but couldn’t gather why it was acting this way. “You’re a strange thing, aren’t you?” Aurora whispered, scratching the dog’s ears. “Don’t you have a name?” The dog only barked, and withdrew its paw. “I don’t understand that.”

She didn’t get any clarification; instead, the dog turned and bounced away into the darkness and the treeline. Aurora sighed, and watched it until it disappeared, before heading back into the castle, suddenly cold.

With all the Quidditch drama going on, Aurora was looking forward to only a handful of her classes: Ancient Runes, Transfiguration and of course Defence Against the Dark Arts. Care of Magical Creatures was exceptionally boring now all they were doing was feeding lettuce to flobberworms, Potions was awful with Snape, and the others were just mediocre. She wanted to like Arithmancy, since she had always been interested in it, but Professor Vector insisted that her Agrippa calculations were incorrect, and Aurora didn’t know what she was meant to do about it. Granger looked awfully smug about the matter, and her constant presence made that class even worse.

She was relieved on Thursday that she had Defence Against the Dark Arts. Professor Lupin’s classes usually cheered her up, but when she entered the classroom, she realised that their usual teacher was not here. Instead, Snape stood at the front of the class, writing the title WEREWOLVES on the blackboard in capital letters. Aurora hid her groan. There was no teacher she hated more than Snape, and she had a feeling this class would be especially wretched given how much she hated her, Potter, Neville, and Lupin himself.

The class settled in near silence, and Draco looked inquisitively around. Gone was the warm feeling Aurora usually associated with Lupin’s classroom. Snape appeared batlike and cold, and could as easily have been a vampire as taught them how to fight one. When he was satisfied at the class’ quiet - despite the fact that Potter had yet to arrive - he began to discuss the notes on their class that Lupin had left, which concerned their behaviour and skill rather than the material covered.

“I never had Black down as an essayist,” he sneered, and she prickled. He was deliberately trying to rile her up, and she was determined not to give him the satisfaction of her temper. “Apparently Longbottom is adept at dealing with Boggarts.” His lip curled cruelly. “You have found a talent at last.” Neville flushed red. “Now, I would think Lupin would have done me the courtesy of leaving a record of your-“

The door burst open and Potter stride in. “Sorry I’m late Professor Lu-“ He broke off, face going bright red when he realised who was glaring at him from the desk.

“You are ten minutes late, Potter,” Snape said coldly. “So I think I’ll make that ten points from Gryffindor.” Aurora hid her smile. “Sit down.”

Potter looked outraged. “Where’s Professor Lupin?”

“He is feeling too ill to teach today,” Snape sneered. He looked rather pleased by this. “I believe I told you to sit down.”

“But what’s wrong with him?”

“Nothing life-threatening.” Aurora thought Snape looked like he had hoped it was. “Ten more points from Gryffindor. If I have to ask you again, Potter, it will be fifty.”

Though he looked extremely reluctant, Potter took his seat with Granger and Weasley, glaring at Snape. “Now, as I was saying before Potter interrupted, Professor Lupin has not left any record on the topics you have covered-“

“Please sir,” Granger interrupted. Pansy pulled a mocking face. “We’ve done Boggarts, Red Caps, Kappas, and Hinkypunks, and we’re meant to be starting-“

“Be quiet,” Snape snapped. “I did not ask for information, I merely commented on Lupin’s lack of organisation.” Aurora ground her teeth. She bet Lupin had left notes, and Snape was neglecting to look at them just so he could have a go. As if he could ever be a better teacher than Lupin.

“He’s the best Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher we’ve ever had,” Dean Thomas said, and Aurora smirked. He was, and Aurora was glad he’d said it before she’d had to.

“You are easily satisfied,” Snape replied in a cool tone. “He is hardly overtaxing you. I would expect first years to be able to handle Red Caps and Grindylows.” Aurora felt the urge to remind him that their first year professor had been utterly incompetent and also possessed by the Dark Lord, but she didn’t think it would be a good idea to draw attention to herself. “Today we shall discuss...” He smirked as he flipped to the end of their textbook. “Werewolves.”

“But, sir,” Granger interrupted, “we’re not meant to do werewolves yet, we’re supposed to be working on Hinkypunks.”

“Miss Granger. I was under the impression that I was teaching this lesson, not you. Turn to page three hundred and ninety four.” Draco and Pansy both obliged, but Aurora did not move. She was glaring silently at Snape. Why was he so awfully bitter? “All of you, now!”

She reluctantly did so, glaring down at the page. “Which of you can distinguish between the werewolf and the true wolf?”

Aurora knew this answer easily. Arcturus had taught her all about werewolves; beastly, brutish things that would stop at nothing to satiate their appetites. She knew of one during the war, Fenrir Greyback, who had sank to his knees before the Dark Lord so he might have some twisted justification for his targeting of Muggle children. He was a horrid brute, and all werewolves were the same.

Aurora raised her hand, and Snape’s eyes glittered in her direction. “Black. You know the answer?”

“Yes,” she said tightly. There was no other reason why she would have put her hand up, after all.

“Let’s see if you know, or if you are merely attempting to show off.” He nodded sharply and she took that as her cue.

“They differ in a number of small ways. Werewolves typically have longer snouts than the true wolf, they have less of a tendency to move in packs, and often make use of their hind legs alone, which gives them slightly more of a humanoid resemblance.”

Snape sneered. “Only three differences, Miss Black? Dear, dear.”

“It’s more than anyone else gave you,” she retorted coldly.

“Indeed.” Only Granger’s hand was still waving in the air. “Though I do not appreciate your showing off, Miss Black, as I have told you on multiple occasions. Your impertinence has earned you a detention.” She scowled. “Can nobody else give me any differences?”

“We haven’t even studied werewolves yet,” Parvati Patil snapped, and Snape glared at her. “You can’t expect us to know everything when we haven’t even been taught!”

Aurora wished Patil had kept her mouth shut. “At your age? I must make a point to tell Professor Dumbledore how very behind you all are.”

“Please, sir,” Granger said desperately, like she couldn’t bear not to answer. And Snape called Aurora a show off? “Like Black said, the werewolf differs from the true wolf in many small ways. Their eyes are often more humanoid in colour, shape, and expression, and they tend to have sharper-“

“Have I not just told Black my opinions on show offs?” Snape shook his head with a glare. “That is the second time you have spoken out of turn. Another ten points from Gryffindor, for being an insufferable know-it-all.” It wasn’t untrue, but Aurora thought that was rather far for a teacher to go.

“You asked a question and she gave you an answer!” Weasley cried out indignantly. “Why ask if you don’t want to be told.”

Snape sneered again coldly. “Another five points, Weasley. And I believe you can join Black in detention. I’m sure that will be a joy for both of you.” Aurora looked at her desk to avoid glaring at anybody. “And if I ever hear you criticise the way I teach a class again, you will be very sorry indeed.”

After that, no one dared to speak again, though in Aurora’s case, keeping quiet was very difficult. Whatever it was about Snape, he just infuriated her and brought out every angry thought she would otherwise never dare to voice. She had to remind herself of her friends around her to keep calm. If she blew up here, he might stop her from playing on Saturday, and she couldn’t risk losing that chance. Flint would kill her if she did.

So even as Snape insulted every one of her essays - called them incorrect and exaggerated and unnecessary - she kept her steadfast silence. He held them back at the end of class. “You will each write an essay, to be handed in to me, on the ways you recognise and kill werewolves. I want two rolls of parchment on the subject, and I want them by Monday. It is time somebody took this class in hand.” Aurora glared bitterly. “Black, Weasley, stay behind. We need to arrange your detentions.”

With a scowl, Aurora gathered up her bag and stalked over to Snape’s desk. Weasley looked no more pleased about this than she did, and shot her a venomous glare which she immediately returned. “There you both are,” Snape said silkily. “You will both spend the night scrubbing bedpans in the Hospital Wing, with no magic.” Aurora screwed up her nose in disgust at the thought. “Too good for that, Black?”

“No, sir,” she muttered, crossing her arms.

“Weasley? Do not let me hear you criticising my teaching again. As for Black...” He sneered. “Difficult as it may be to restrain your arrogance, do attempt to stop being such a horrid show off. If I remember correctly, your father was the same, and we all know the fate that leads to.”

For a second, she was lost for words. How dare he speak to her like that? “Forgive me, Professor, but as I have reminded you on multiple occasions, I am not my father.” She scowled fiercely. “So I’d appreciate if you stop trying to compare us just because you’ve taken object to me.”

Snape’s eyes glittered menacingly. “Get out of my classroom, Black, before you earn yourself another detention.”

She sneered back at him. “This isn’t your classroom, Professor,” she said, before sweeping out, not waiting to hear what he said and certainly not waiting for Weasley. The door swung shut and hit him firmly in the face, and she only winced before strutting to Arithmancy.

“Sorry I’m late, Professor,” she said tightly, trying to hide her scowl. “I had to speak to Professor Snape.”

Vector waved her on and she took her usual seat by Granger, who raised her eyebrows coolly. “What?” Aurora snapped, pulling her book out and thunking it down on the desk. “Stop looking at me, Granger.”

Granger simply made a superior sort of huffing sound and turned around, leaving Aurora to fume.


	42. Stormy Skies

The morning of the match, Aurora awoke to the sound of the lake pummelling the shore, and nervous eyes in the common room. “I can’t believe the weather,” Flint said briskly at breakfast. Aurora couldn’t bring herself to eat. This was one of the biggest moments of her life as far as she was concerned. Her first proper Quidditch match. “Black, you had better win us this match. We can’t play in this for nothing.”

“I won’t let you down,” she said, feeling queasy.

“I’m just glad I’m not playing,” Draco said happily, and Aurora flicked his uninjured arm. “What?”

“Stop bragging,” she muttered, embarrassed by how squeaky her voice came out. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“You won’t,” Daphne assured her. “You’ll be perfectly fine, Aurora.” She frowned. “Just don’t get blown off your broom.”

“Eat some bacon,” Draco suggested, but it tasted like cardboard in her mouth.

When the team headed out together, it was to loud cheers from the Slytherins and boos from everyone else, but Aurora determinedly held her head up high. She might be the smallest on the team, and the only girl, but she was not going to show any signs of weakness, even in the face of the storm outside.

“We know what we have to do,” Flint grunted in the changing room. Aurora clutched her broom tightly. “Play fast, play hard, play sneaky. You all better know your rulebooks, because this is important and we don’t want to give away any penalties. Black, let us do our work, don’t get in the way, and catch the snitch as fast as you can. The longer we spend in this storm, the harder the game’ll get.” She nodded. “Beaters, aim for Potter. You saw the way the team always tried to protect him - exploit that. And go for Angelina Johnson too, she’s their best chaser and if we can put her off her game we have a better chance.” He smirked. “That said, I’m sure we can easily destroy them. Hands in.”

They all huddled together, Draco putting in his uninjured arm with a pout. “To greatness!” Flint bellowed.

“To greatness!”

“To reclaiming the cup!”

“To reclaiming the cup!”

“To making Gryffindor cower like cubs!”

Aurora bit back a giddy laugh as she joined in the chant, “To making Gryffindor cower like cubs!”

They split, cheered, and ran out onto the pitch. This was it, Aurora thought, nerves gathering again. She was going to play against Potter, and she was damned if she was going to let him win. “I want a nice, clean game,” Madam Hooch instructed as Flint shook hands with Wood, the Gryffindor Captain. Draco shuffled to the side bench to watch, holding an emerald umbrella over his head. He shot Aurora a thumbs up and a bright grin. She nodded briskly at him, and tilted her chin to look down her nose at Potter. Had he always looked so small? She smirked; raindrops were already gathering on his glasses, and it would be difficult for him to see accurately like that.

“Ready, Potter?” she taunted, and he glared back.

“Ready to beat you, Black.”

She barked out a laugh. “We’ll see about that. Don’t get scared now. I promise I won’t be too hard on you.”

The hateful look on Potter’s face only gave her more adrenaline. She was going to destroy him, she was going to prove she belonged on the Slytherin team, and it was going to be made all the sweeter when she saw the look on Potter’s face as she swept the Quidditch Cup out of his grasp.

Madam Hooch blew her whistle and Aurora kicked off from the slippery mud, taking to the air with a grin. No matter the cold and damp, there were few feelings better being in the air on a broom, flying against the wind. The visibility wasn’t great given the rain, but she knew Potter must be faring worse. She kept her ears open for Lee Jordan’s - horrifically biased - commentary and her eyes peeled for any sighting of the golden snitch as she flew breathless laps of the pitch. It felt so wonderful to be up here, with the crowd below cheering every now and then. She soaked up that energy, and it made her even more alert, determined to be the best. To win.

She had to be careful though. More than once, a Weasley twin pelted a Bludger at her which she had to narrowly dodge. She’d only just caught sight of a glimmer of gold when a Bludger came straight towards her head, and she had to swerve sharply out of its way. The snitch disappeared into the grey clouds, and though Aurora gave chase, she couldn’t see it now. With a grunt of frustration, she turned around, only to see Potter zooming towards her. She was about to wheel around and see what he’d spotted, but he stopped, face falling. He’d clearly seen her direction and speed and realised she’d seen the snitch. His eyesight wasn’t too awful then.

“Sorry, four-eyes,” she taunted, crossing her arms. “No snitch here.”

He pulled a face. “Shut up, Black.”

She smirked, realising she’d gotten under his skin. That could make him lose some of his focus. “Oh, but it’s so fun, Potter. Your little face goes a lovely shade of red.”

“Still better than your face.”

“Ouch.” Aurora laughed at him and the proud look on his face. “You’re hilarious, Potter!”

And then she swooped off past him, in search of the snitch again. Potter made a noise of frustration and swept in the other direction, taking his time to do another lap before he caught up to Aurora.

“What is it now, Potter? You haven’t gotten lost, have you?”

“I’m doing my job.”

She laughed. “Not very well, I have to say. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were following me!” He flushed and she smirked in response. “Don’t be so embarrassed. I’m delightful company, really.”

He rolled his eyes. “I beg to differ, Black.”

“What exactly are you trying to get out of this?” She spied a dark Bludger hurtling through the air towards them and hid a smirk.

“I know you’re up to something. You helped Black get in didn’t you?”

“You really don’t know me, Potter,” she said, and ducked down to dodge the Bludger that caught Potter’s shoulder. Grinning, she sped off again.

A minute later, Wood had called a time out, and Aurora took the time to check the score. 120-90 to Gryffindor, which wasn’t ideal, but it wouldn’t matter too much so long as she got the snitch. “What’s got Potter’s wand in a knot?” Flint said.

“He can’t see,” Aurora said chirpily. “Bit of a problem for a Seeker.”

Flint grinned and the other boys laughed. “Good. You keep it up, Black. Montague, you have to get your act together, you’re ruining our formations. Bletchley, for Merlin’s sake, keep your eye on the Quaffle!”

“It’s difficult to keep my eyes on anything in this!” Bletchley complained, and Flint glared.

“Shut it.”

They took to the sky a few minutes later with Potter looking horribly cheerful. Thunder was starting up, and with it lightning which lit up the sky. Aurora was careful to watch it, and see if it could illuminate the snitch. She hoped the lightning wouldn’t fry anyone, because this was downright dangerous now, but she was hardly going to admit that and forfeit her place.

She kept up her flying, eyes peeled for any glimmers of gold. But she kept her eyes on Potter, too. His glasses had had a charm put on them to stop water obscuring his vision, and it never hurt to follow the competition, so long as she was alert to feint tactics. But Potter didn’t often play a tactical game, she had observed. If he streaked off, she was going to follow, and kept herself at a distance where she could easily catch up but where he wouldn’t quite realise her tactics.

Every now and then, they passed one another. Aurora would purposefully nod to something behind his shoulder, or else wink at him, just to throw him off, and it was as she passed him for the fourth time that she caught sight of a shadow by the edges of the stands. In the stormlight, it appeared as a dog, stretched out over the grass. She couldn’t see the eyes but still felt disconcertingly as though it was watching her. And there was another shadow, hanging in the clouds. It chilled her right to the bone, that reminder — the spectre of death, watching her.

She forced herself to wrench her gaze away. Potter had stilled in the air, watching her. He frowned back over his shoulder and it seemed his gaze caught on the same shadow upon the grass, before he turned back to stare at her. “What, Potter?” she asked, with the wind whipping her wet hair against her face.

He didn’t answer, just made a low noise of annoyance and turned around, flying in the other direction. Aurora stared after him but after a yell from Flint, she soared upwards again in search of the Snitch.

She and Potter spotted it at the same time. He was closer though, and she knew she’d have to be tricky to get there first, while pushing her broom faster and faster.

“What, Potter?” she called over the thunder. “Can’t see for the rain? It’s a shame!” She was gaining on him now, they were almost neck and neck. “You sure that isn’t the sun you’re trying to fly into, specky?”

“Shove off, Black,” Potter yelled. “Why don’t you fly back down to the ground? Or the bench? You look a bit peaky up here.”

“Sick at the sight of you!” she called back, adding on more speed as the pair of them climbed higher and higher into the clouds. She could see the Snitch now, just a few more seconds and she could push her broom to its limit and catch it, at the back of him. She was gaining on him.

“What is that?” His voice broke through the low rumble of thunder.

“What, Potter? I can’t hear you over my victory chant!”

And then she felt it. Something cold crawling over her shoulder, as the ran battered icily against her and the wing howled. She heard the rattle of breath, and heard horrid words whispered in her ear.

Don’t cry.

“Arcturus,” she murmured, blinking away her tears. She felt heavy, leaden, but she forced herself to focus and push onwards. The shadow of a great dog flashed somewhere below her, and she was caught off guard, breath tearing from her chest. She couldn’t be distracted. She had to keep going. The snitch was so close, and Potter was pulling away, she was going to win.

Then she heard a yell, and saw Potter slump over, his broom falling from underneath him. Shock hit her and her mind reeled as the boy seemed to fall in slow motion, slipping past her, limp.

She reached out her arm and grabbed the Snitch triumphantly from the sky.

The explosion of excitement and adrenaline as she felt its wings against her palm. Warmth ran through her and she beamed, but it was broken in a second by the flash of lightning, the cold wind running through her hair, and then — the sound of a woman screaming. Her head spun.

She had to get back to the ground. She had won. It was over, but her breath was stuck in her throat and she could feel the warmth draining from her cheeks.

Aurora wheeled around and plummeted into a steep dive downwards through the tearing wind and the freezing cold. It tore at her robes and at the bristles on the back of her room.

People were gasping and screaming in the crowd. The rain plastered Aurora’s hair to her face and got in her eyes, but she could see Potter’s forlorn form some way below her. He was falling fast and she realised he had no control over his broom at all. He had fainted, and was just barely hanging onto his broom. Panic struck her suddenly, the realisation that she should have seen what was happening.

For Merlin’s sake, he was going to hit the ground soon. People were screaming, completely losing it in the crowd, and her sense of triumph faded as suddenly as the warmth in her body. She knew exactly where the finger was going to be pointed.

“Potter!”

The Dementors pressed at her back, as she forced her broom to fly faster and faster. Don’t cry, Arcturus’ voice rang in her head again. But she was losing control of her broom too; she was diving too steeply, and it shuddered beneath her as though it could sense her fear.

That is not who we are. That was her grandmother. You do not cry. You are weak, just like your father.

There was a scream then. Her mother’s voice.

“Sirius, go, just go! Don’t you dare, they’ll kill her! This is because of you — I told you!” She could hear the sob in her voice. “Just go! You have to run, you have to tell them — just take her!”

“Marlene!”

That voice seemed to cut her to the bone. Her father’s voice. Fury coursed through her.

“Marlene — Marls, no, don’t—”

“Go!” The lightning flashed around her, red and blue instead of white. “Sirius, no! They’ll kill her, Sirius, please! Please, stop! Stop!” The sky lit up green. Aurora’s ears rang and her cheeks burned against the wind. “Sirius you have to go! Now!”

“Marlene — Marlene, I love you! Marlene — no!” That sound tore through the air.

The lightning seemed to flash scarlet around her, and then green. Phantom pain ran around her neck. Her head spun and her ears filled with white noise. She wasn’t sure she could breathe, and was only vaguely aware of the world around her. It felt like something was trying to pull her back, the Dementors grasping at her even as she fell. She was only conscious enough to grip her broom and realise that Potter, the stupid git, was about to crash into the ground from a hundred feet.

Heart racing, she reached out and grabbed Potter from where he was plummeting through the air. He was heavier than she’d expected, and the weight of him almost blew her from her broom. She held on tightly, thighs wrapped around the handle and clinging for dear life, but she was falling too now, and she could feel the cold presence of the Dementors around her.

Don’t cry.

She heard the patter of rain on an umbrella and the sound of crying, and then a woman’s scream, a man’s yell of fury, and with Potter limp against her side, she stumbled onto the grass. Her legs gave out and her vision went dark, but her hand was still wrapped firmly around the Snitch.

-*

She woke in the Hospital Wing in the bed next to Potter’s. The two Quidditch teams had gathered around their respective Seekers’ beds, along with Weasley and Granger for Potter, and Pansy, Daphne, and — somewhat surprisingly — Gwendolyn and Theodore for Aurora.

It was Pansy who grabbed Aurora first when she woke up. “You absolute idiot!” she cried. “What were you thinking, trying to save Potter?”

“We were pretty high up,” she croaked from Pansy’s crushing hug. “I thought the game would be forfeited if my other Seeker died, and it would be a bit of a waste of the victory.” Granger glared over at her. “I caught the Snitch, though.” Pansy released her and her head spun. She felt faint and weak, and she didn’t like that at all. There was also a numb pain in her legs.

“They wouldn’t have let Potter die,” Flint scoffed. “At least you won for us though.”

She grinned. “For definite? Excellent.”

“Yeah,” Gwendolyn said, “and you absolutely terrified me in the process.”

“We told her she didn’t have to come,” Pansy said, but Aurora was immensely grateful for Gwendolyn being there.

“How do you feel?” Draco pressed. “You are very pale. We weren’t sure if you’d fainted or fallen or if it was just Potter’s weight dragging you down.”

“A bit of everything,” Aurora admitted. She tried to get up, though when she did she realised her ribs were sore, and she couldn’t move her legs without feeling pain. “Ouch.”

“Yeah, Pomfrey said you dislocated your knee,” said Warrington.

Aurora winced. “Shit.”

“You should be able to walk soon enough with a bit of rest,” Flint told her. “I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“My rib feels broken.”

“She’s being dramatic,” Flint said, rolling his eyes. Aurora hid her scowl. She was in the Hospital Wing, for goodness’ sake! She deserved a little bit of sympathy from her captain. “You played decent though, Black, I’ll admit. Malfoy and Higgs never managed to beat Potter during a storm. You should watch your back, Malfoy,” Flint said. “The way Aurora played today, she could wind up taking your spot.”

“What?” Draco’s face was priceless. “But that isn’t fair!”

“Maybe you should have played and beaten Potter then.” Flint chuckled. “Life isn’t fair, get used to it. Black, take this.” He chucked a chocolate frog towards her and she caught it. “Eat. Try and make it back for the party tonight, we can’t have a win and not get the Seeker hammered.” She grinned, though she had no intentions of getting intoxicated beyond tipsy. People who did were so often inelegant, and rarely had true control of their actions, something she was not going to give up. “Or else we’ll see you at practice tomorrow morning. Come on, boys.”

They all traipsed out in a line after their captain, and despite how cold she still felt, and the pain in her ribs, Aurora was sure she couldn’t have been happier. “I won,” she said giddily once the team had left. “I actually did it, I actually won! That’s shown Flint all right, they’ll have to take me seriously now!”

Draco looked sullen, but the others were all beaming for her. “I told you you were brilliant,” Gwen said, grinning. “You played great, even when you were being attacked by Dementors!”

“I can’t believe you won,” Draco muttered. “I could have beaten Potter today.”

“But you didn’t,” she sang in a reminder. “I did!” She opened her chocolate frog and but the head off in celebration. “Morgana, lovely.”

Later, she had an awful row with Madam Pomfrey, who insisted Aurora could not go to the Slytherin celebratory party and certainly should not be drinking anything stronger than pumpkin juice. “Slytherin hasn’t had a proper party since I was in first year!” Aurora whined. “It’ll make me feel so much better to get to go and be with my friends!”

“Absolutely not,” Madam Pomfrey snapped. “You might do your knee another injury!”

“But it's fine! It doesn’t even feel sore!”

“That wasn’t what you said earlier, Black. Now sit still and eat your dinner.”

She pulled a face but could tell Madam Pomfrey was not going to relent. Instead she entertained herself with glaring at Potter, who looked unnerved. “What?”

“Nothing.”

He shook his head. “I can’t believe you, Black.”

“What’ve I done now?”

“That was not a fair catch and you know it.”

She sneered. “I won fair and square, Potter. Stop sulking because you’ve never heard of losing before.”

He pursed his lips. “You know the Dementors were there.”

That threw her. Aurora stared at Potter for a moment, completely bewildered. “What?”

“You did, didn’t you? I’d bet it was you they were there for.”

The way he said it ignited fury in her chest. “Don’t talk to me, Potter.”

“And you saw that dog, too. I know you did — the Grim.”

“That one was there for you,” she said flippantly, and then cursed herself when she saw the look on his face. “That wasn’t a threat, Potter, no need to look like that.”

He narrowed his eyes but dropped into blissful silence for a few moments. Aurora thought that was the last of the awful conversation, but then he decided to add, “Hermione said you grabbed me onto your broom.”

She glared at him. “And?”

“Why?”

“Well, it’s like I said, Potter, I think letting your opponents break their necks is generally frowned upon, even in Quidditch. And I’d already won.” She smirked, but Potter was far from amused.

“What are you up to, Black?”

“Nothing,” she told him, quite honestly. “It’s not me you ought to be worrying about, Potter, trust me. Just stay off my case, alright?”

“Or what? You don’t scare me, Black.”

“Are you sure? Because you do keep accusing me of being an aspiring murderer, and I can’t think of any other reason given your complete lack of evidence.” She made a sound of disgust but avoided his gaze. “At least you’re consistent, Potter, if stupid.”

It was very amusing to watch the redness of his cheeks. “Well,” he said thickly, leaning back against his pillows. “Suppose we’re even.”

“Even?”

“I let you win, you... Helped me.”

She had to laugh at that. “Let me win? I don’t think so, Potter. No, I saved your neck, at great personal risk, might I add.”

“I’m not the one who made you faint.”

“I didn’t faint,” she lied through gritted teeth but he saw right through it. “You’re welcome, anyway, Potter — a thank you wouldn’t go amiss.”

He ground his teeth and muttered a very sarcastic, “Yeah, thanks a lot.”

She smirked as she leaned back. “Though, I would appreciate a little less glaring across classrooms, all your hatred isn’t good for my ego.”

He snorted. “I don’t think anything could put a dent in your ego, Black.”

“You could be right.” She smiled, tapping her jaw as she tipped her head back and examined the Hospital Wing ceiling. It occurred to her that she should say something more, but she had no idea what. “Started that essay for Snape yet?”

“No.”

She smirked. “Finally, something we have in common, Potter.”

She could have sworn he was trying not to grin, or maybe that was wishful thinking. It was funny watching him struggle. “I bet you loved your detention.”

“Oh, your pal Weasley and I had a right old chat.”

“I still don’t trust you.”

“I don’t know why you said still, Potter. Frankly I don’t care if you don’t trust me or not, and I’m hardly trying to make you my friend.”

“You saved me though.”

She gave him a piercing glare. “You really want to be something special, don’t you? I would have saved anyone I thought was going to die crashing into the ground from a hundred feet. If anything, you’re the last person I would have helped.” She laughed and tidied her hair around her shoulders, sitting up straight and prim. “Now if you don’t mind, I have a meal to eat.”

They didn’t speak again.

-*

Much to Aurora’s displeasure, they were both kept in the Hospital wing for the rest of the weekend. She insisted to Madam Pomfrey that she was perfectly alright, because she did feel fine except for weird knees, but the nurse insisted that she had to rest and that if she protested any further then she would be having pepper-up potion for her dinner, so she had to grudgingly agree. She and Potter didn’t speak again, which suited Aurora just fine. She worked steadily through her homework, and wrote a letter to Dora telling her all about what had happened and how, ultimately, she had been the clear winner of the match. Aurora left out the part about what she had heard. Her mother screaming for her father to run, to take Aurora because someone was going to kill her. How it was her father’s fault, all her father’s fault. Every time she thought of it, she felt sick.

And her mind went back to that black dog. She told herself she’d imagined it, in the heat of the game and her fear of the Dementors, but she’d overheard Potter whispering to his friends about it. He’d been scared, from the sounds of it, and the fact he wasn’t even trying too hard to hide it from Aurora was strange to her. On his way out, Weasley had looked over her with a smirk. “Guess you’re not feeling so big now, are you, Black?”

She snarled back, “I can still hex you sitting down.”

On Sunday evening, Cassius Warrington made his way in to the Hospital Wing, earning himself a disapproving stare from Madam Pomfrey and a hard glare from Potter. Aurora sat up straight, frowning. She hadn’t had a proper bath since yesterday and felt very self-conscious of it.

“Warrington,” she said as brightly as she could. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Flint wanted me to tell you about practice today,” he replied, drawing up one of the chairs beside her bed. His frame and broad shoulders dwarfed the back of the chair. “And reckoned Malfoy would get too distracted by your company.” His eyes darted over to Potter, and he scowled. “I hate eavesdroppers. Suppose they have to compensate for not being able to see the Snitch.”

Aurora stifled a laugh and reached up to draw the flimsy Hospital Wing curtains around her bed. Once they were concealed, Warrington reached into the bag he’d brought with him and revealed two bottles of Butterbeer.

“Since you missed out on the party last night.”

“Thanks,” Aurora replied, finding herself oddly flattered that he’d bothered. Warrington opened the bottles and handed one to her. She sipped it slowly, grinning. Much better than the medicines Madam Pomfrey had been serving her. “So. Flint? What did he have to say?”

“Well, Beaters got a right beating. Apparently they didn’t take full advantage of the situation. Us Chasers couldn’t take orders enough, which is bullshit. None of us could hear over that wind anyway.” Aurora grinned.

“Well, Flint doesn’t shy away from bullshit.”

“Touché,” Warrington said, and tapped his Butterbeer bottle against hers.

“What did he say about me?”

“To not get too used to being on the team.”

“How nice of him.”

Warrington cracked a grin and leaned forward. “He said your flying technique requires work. So do your dives. You need to brush up on tactics and feints. Apparently it got repetitive — I didn’t know, I didn’t pay attention — but you still won. Maybe he didn’t want to criticise you too much since you were in the hospital.”

“Hm, maybe he does have a heart.”

“Oh, don’t make that mistake.” He grinned. “He just needs to pretend he does for the team. Still. You did well. Most of his notes were about formations and the Chasers. He still wants to play Malfoy next game but you should see it anyway.”

She grinned as Warrington slid over the sheafs of parchment upon which Flint had drawn out diagrams of the Quidditch pitch, complete with notes. Most of it did focus on the Chasers and keeper, as Warrington had said, but there was a good few inches of notes about feints on the back of one diagrams. “Wronski,” Aurora muttered. “Funnily enough, I didn’t want to actually crash into the ground with that low visibility.”

“How did that go for you?” Warrington teased, but Aurora silenced him sharply with a glare. “Sorry.” He winced. “Those Dementors — they’re no joke. I don’t like them either.”

“I’m not sure they were made to be liked,” she muttered, drawing the parchment closer. “That’s an interesting formation — Seeker up top with the Beaters.”

“A three-three game.”

“I know what it’s called, Warrington.”

He flushed beneath his pale hair. “Yes, course. I know. He says we should have played that yesterday — it confused opponents, and obviously it’s best in stormy conditions. It could come in handy against Hufflepuff though.”

Aurora allowed herself just a small grin. “He can’t underestimate Hufflepuff,” she told Warrington. “They did alright against Ravenclaw last year and Diggory’s meant to be decent — he’s in your year, isn’t he?”

Warrington scowled. “Pretty boy Diggory.”

“Pretty?” She smirked. “Suppose he is. But is he good at Quidditch?”

“He does have some talents, unfortunately.” He rolled his eyes. “Other than getting all the fifth year girls to fall over him.”

“All the more reason to crush them,” she said.

“You sound like Flint.”

“Ah, but I have a heart.”

Warrington laughed. She wasn’t sure she’d heard him laugh before. “Yeah.” Silence fell for a second and he broke it with a cough. “Anyway. The formations, I think this one — the five cross — is the best.”

“It does leave the Seeker exposed to attack though. The most important player needs to be protected.”

Warrington laughed lowly. “You think you’re the most important player?”

“I think the Seeker is the most important position,” she corrected. “One hundred and fifty points usually wins the games.” She grinned. “I suppose Chasers come in handy too, though.”

Warrington shook his head. “Only if we play right. And we weren’t that good yesterday. but hey, if you’re not going to play Seeker, you could be subbed in as a Chaser now Flint knows you can play. You need to learn these.”

“I might get subbed in?” Her voice caught in excitement. “Really?”

He shrugged. “Flint pretty much said so.”

That was the first thing to truly lift her spirits that day. She beamed, and took a long swig of Butterbeer, imagining Potter’s face when she next showed up on the pitch, the memory of his defeat still lingering.

“Show me these formations again, then,” she said. “I suppose I had better make sure I’m on top form if we want to take the cup back this year.”

-*

Once Warrington left, the wing fell into a lull. Pomfrey has opened up the curtains that had been put around her bed, meaning she had to look at Potter’s stupid face across from her all evening. On Monday morning, she was just glad to get back to classes and away from Potter. He kept looking at her, and she didn’t know why, which made her exceedingly uncomfortable.

The Slytherins welcomed her back with great cheer. “There’s our champion!” Derrick Bole yelled over the din. “Well done, Black!”

She beamed with pride as she was swept along, to sit in the cluster of her friends on their usual couches. “Well?” Pansy demanded. “How do you feel?”

“Fine,” she said with a shrug. “I don’t really know what happened.”

“I can’t believe you fainted,” Draco said in a whisper.

“I did not faint,” she snapped at him. “I only fell because the Dementors were pushing us both down, and I thought I should try and stop Potter from breaking his neck.”

Pansy looked dubious. “You looked like you fainted.”

“I hit my head on the landing.” She scowled. “It’s Potter’s fault anyway.”

“I did say you shouldn’t have bothered saving him,” Draco said coolly.

Their next Potions class was an utter disaster. Draco, in some sort of confused defence of Aurora’s own dignity, had taken to making fun of Potter again, doing spirited imitations of his fainting now that he decided he could use both his arms again. These were so exaggerated and apparently upsetting that Weasley took it upon himself to launch a slimy crocodile heart at Draco’s face and lose himself fifty points for Gryffindor.

Draco was appalled, and Pansy shrieked in indignation. “You’re a beast, Weasley!” she cried. “A horrid beast! How dare you attack Draco, as if he hasn’t been through enough this term!”

Weasley scowled. “He’s been through nothing and he knows it. Bastard.”

Aurora tossed a horned slug at his shoulder and Weasley launched forward like he was about to hit her, but Potter got in the way. Aurora thought it would have been interesting to slap Weasley in his stupid face, but unfortunately the fates would not have it that way, and she knew Snape would have given her at least a fortnight’s worth of detentions. “Simmer down,” he told the class, while Neville cowered in the corner beside Aurora, frightened of a fight breaking out next to him. “Now, Weasley.”

“Didn’t you see your little pal,” Weasley hissed at Draco as they left. “She fainted just the same, but I don’t see you being a prick to her.”

Draco merely raised his eyebrows. “Weasley, Aurora did not faint. She, as I’m sure you recall, saved little Potter’s life, and I think you owe her quite an apology.”

When Weasley said nothing else, Aurora took it upon herself to step forwards. “I don’t mind if he doesn’t apologise to me,” she told Draco. “However, I do suggest that he stops his childish actions, or else I might just have to get some revenge.”

Weasley scoffed. “You said that last year, Black. You’re all talk and no actions.”

She smirked. “That you know about, Weasley. I know you don’t quite understand subtlety, but have a little think and know that I do not let people get away with wronging me.” She stepped closer and smiled sweetly in his face, looking down her nose. “Understand?”

“You’re a bitch,” he said, and within an instant had four wands on him - Draco, Pansy, Daphne, and Aurora herself.

“Take that back, Weasley,” Pansy snarled. “You foul little blood traitor, you take that back about Aurora right now.”

“Oh, Ron,” fretted Granger, kneading her hands together. “Stop it, just leave it.” She glanced anxiously at Aurora. “Stop this, won’t you?”

Aurora raised her eyebrows. “I won’t stop anything I didn’t start, Granger. Tell your little boyfriend to shut up and stand down.”

“Ron, please,” she pleaded, and grudgingly, Weasley stepped away.

“Come on,” Potter muttered as they slouched off. “She isn’t worth it.”

Aurora huffed. “I do hate them.”

“Likewise.”

They still had to contend with the Gryffindors in Defence Against the Dark Arts class. Aurora didn’t know if it was this time made better or worse by Lupin resuming his work. Her class loudly protested the essay assignment they’d been given, which Aurora was glad for, because she hadn’t completed and honestly had no intentions of handing it in to Snape; to do so would have been to acknowledge him as an authority, and she was not going to do that.

“It’s not fair,” Parvati Patil said. “He was only filling in, he can’t give us homework!”

“And we don’t know anything about werewolves!” put in Dean Thomas. Aurora rolled her eyes.

“Two rolls of parchment!” Weasley protested, and she had to hide her laugh. Two rolls wasn’t that bad. She dreaded to think what he would be like when it came to his O.W.L.s.

“Did you tell Professor Snape we haven’t covered them yet?” Lupin asked with a frown.

“Yes, but he said we were really behind-“

“But he wouldn’t listen!”

Lupin sighed and smiled around at them. “Don’t worry, I’ll talk to Professor Snape. You don’t have to do the essay.” Aurora grinned, catching Lupin’s eye. Snape had no right to give them homework for Lupin’s class, and they all knew it.

“Oh no,” Granger said from across the classroom. “I’ve already finished it!”

Aurora laughed, and Pansy whispered, “Insufferable know it all.”

At the end of the class, Aurora debated hanging back. She didn’t like that she might be weak to the Dementors, and that everyone had seen that exposed. No matter how she tried to cover it up, everyone knew she had fainted. Everyone thought she was weak and she could not stand for that.

But she couldn’t ask Professor Lupin. Just when she thought she had the courage to go over and ask if he knew how to protect against Dementors, he called Potter to speak to him, and that turned Aurora away instantly. She would have to ask someone else, she decided, leaving the classroom in a rush with Draco, Pansy and Blaise. Someone who knew what they were talking about and who did actually seem to like her.

She was going to have to ask Dora. Very nicely, because she wasn’t sure exactly how much Dora was allowed to divulge about Auror training... But she needed to learn, and fast. She could not be seen as weak. And especially not if Potter saw it, too.


	43. The Night Sky

Once she had settled back into her dormitory and completed the night’s homework, Aurora sat down in the common room to pen a letter to Dora. She needed to learn more about Dementors and their effects, as well as how to combat them. She couldn’t appear weak in front of anyone again. And she knew that as an Auror, Dora had some experience and expertise in this area. She could perhaps have asked Professor Lupin, but he seemed to have enough on his plate, and she worried that he wouldn’t want to help her anyway.

A few days later at breakfast, she received the reply, suggesting a few books to check out from the library and a promise that Dora would teach her about something called a Patronus Charm when she was back over Christmas. The thought of Christmas at the Tonkses’ made her heart lift properly for the first time in days — finally, a Christmas with family.

She was still grinning when Draco dropped into the seat beside her. “Morning,” he said, spooning scrambled eggs onto his plate. “You look cheerful for a change.” Aurora stuck her tongue out at him and he laughed. “Who’s the letter from?”

“Just Dora,” she said as flippantly as she could.

Draco’s initial teasing look turned to something serious and wary. “What about?”

“Just making sure I’ll be at theirs for the holidays.” She grinned. “You are still planning on going back to the Manor, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” he said, somewhat sullenly, and Aurora frowned.

“What?”

“Well, I didn’t think you’d be going back to them for Christmas.”

Aurora frowned at him, somewhat uncomfortable with his tone. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just, you know... Are you not better off here?”

“I’m sure I’ll survive the English countryside for a fortnight, Draco.”

His cheeks went pink. “I just meant—”

“I know what you meant.” She sighed and shook her head as she folded the parchment back. “And thank you. But I will be quite alright. Dora’s even going to teach me some defense work to deal with Dementors. Not that I really need it,” she added hastily, though he appeared doubtful, “but it may come in handy, and it never hurts to be ahead of things. If I do decide to pursue any higher qualifications in the field, it’ll stand me in good stead, and I would be foolish to give up an opportunity.”

He still looked disbelieving. “Right.” After a pause, he added, “Mum doesn’t approve of her sister.”

“I had gathered that.”

“You know, your father—” She tensed as he dropped his voice. “Mother says she never believed it of him, but if he had truly turned back to our family’s side of things, he would go after Andromeda. She said that her other sister was going to. You could be putting yourself in danger if you keep associating with them.”

Anger flared in her belly. “Well, I don’t have any offers for Christmas from our family,” she let her voice harden on those last two words, “so I suppose it’s this or be stuck with a bunch of Gryffindors again.” She stood up suddenly, and her cousin’s face faltered.

“I’m just saying, Aurora. Andromeda’s husband’s a mud—”

“Stop right there,” she said, not sure of why such strong emotion was rushing through her, but desperate to relieve it anyway. “Don’t talk about Ted like that.”

“I didn’t—”

“You were going to. He is a good person and he has been good to me. And Dora is an Auror and despite what your mother — who has not contacted me once through all of this, might I add — may think, I trust them. I’ll be safe. And if you worry about my being with them,” she added, “and if your parents do, maybe they should have thought of that when I needed them instead of now, when your mother has decided she hates her sister again.”

She turned on her heel and stormed away, ignoring her cousin calling after her. Her anger was too much to talk to anyone right now, and she knew it showed on her face. It was stupid to be so annoyed with Draco of all people, and it wasn’t an especially significant matter and she knew that, but she couldn’t help it. She didn’t like what he insinuated, she didn’t like that he and his parents seemed to think they had the right to decide what happened in her life when they hadn’t seemed to care one bit what happened to her the Christmas before Lucretia and Ignatius passed, or after. She wanted to believe they were just looking out for her, but she couldn’t. Just because Narcissa was the only other member of the Black family still alive, free, and not disowned, didn’t mean she was entitled to any part of Aurora’s life. No one was.

Since she still had half an hour before History, and because she was far too prideful to walk back into the Great Hall after storming out like that, Aurora sought the relative quiet of the library. There was rarely anyone else in it at this time of the morning, and she thought to herself that it really couldn’t hurt to do a bit of research into this Patronus Charm that Dora had mentioned.

It was just her luck that she ran into Hermione Granger, who was also in the Defense section, skimming through books about werewolves with a concentrated look on her face. Aurora rolled her eyes as she went past.

“You do know we don’t have to do that essay, don’t you?” she asked haughtily. “You don’t have to show off quite that much.”

“You’re one to talk about showing off, Black.”

Aurora smirked. “Ah, but I do it somewhat more discreetly.”

“No, you don’t.” She grinned at Granger, who shook out her bushy mane of hair. “I’m just engaging in some extracurricular research. I thought you would have figured out why.”

“Why do you insist on showing off? I imagine it’s some sort of complex.”

Granger just sniffed and turned around. She ignored Aurora, which suited her fine. She glanced around for the topic reference for D — Dementors. It was on the shelf just opposite the one Granger was perusing, and she sighed as she turned around, and looked through. Along with Newt Scamander’s book, Dora had recommended Battling the Dark: Dementors and Defense, A History of Dementors, and Patronuses and their Use.

She picked them all up, holding them tight to her chest. Aurora was just about to move on wen Granger said quietly, “Thank you, by the way.”

Startled, Aurora turned and stared at her. “What?”

“For saving Harry. He could have been really hurt.”

She didn’t meet Granger’s eyes. “I don’t know why you all act so surprised.”

“I know,” Granger said quickly. She looked like she was having to force the words out. “I know you helped him back in first year too and — well.” She swallowed. “It’s decent of you.”

This was too strange. Aurora half-expected it to be a diversion so a Weasley could drop a water balloon on her head. “Right,” she said uneasily, edging away. “Well, I’m glad to see one of you has a brain in her head.”

“You could stand to be nicer, though,” Granger added.

“And is Potter nice to me?” Aurora asked coolly. “Are you and Weasley?” At Granger’s silence, Aurora rolled her eyes. “If that’s all, I’ll be off. Try not to drop any books.”

She kept glancing over her shoulder as she went over to the checkout desk where Madam Prince was lurking, but Granger had turned back to her books like there was nothing amiss. Aurora decided it was best if she ignored that conversation. She had more important things to think about than what Gryffindors thought of her, after all. Still, there was some odd comfort in knowing that not everybody outside her circle of friends thought she was an awful person. Even if there was still the possibility that Granger may have been replaced by a clone.

That day wasn’t too awful by third year’s standards. She spent History reading the books Dora had recommended, as she had already caught herself up on the material for this week and Binns offered little in the way of illumination on their topic. After class, Pansy sidled up to her with Daphne and Lucille in tow.

“Draco is very upset with you,” she started, which was not what Aurora wanted to hear at all.

“I’m upset with him.”

“He keeps going on about it,” Lucille aid.

“You only had a half hour of breakfast, I’m sure it couldn’t have been that taxing.”

“What happened?” Daphne asked, taking Aurora’s arm. “He won’t tell us.”

“Daphne just wants gossip.”

“I want to hear the truth.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” Aurora said, bristling. “Our conversations really are not that important.”

“Well, he’s clearly sulking,” Pansy said, tucking her hair behind her ears. “And it is frightful, and so are you. You had your head buried in a book all lesson, for Merlin’s sake!”

“Thanks,” Aurora replied drily, breaking away from Daphne. “But I think my education is important, thank you very much, Pansy, even if you do not care to enlighten yourself. I’ll talk to Draco at dinner, if it means so much. But frankly, it’s none of your business.”

She knew as she walked away that Pansy and the others were staring after her, bewildered, possibly hurt. But in that moment she didn’t care. She just wanted to be left alone.

At dinner, she saved a seat beside her for her cousin, who rolled his eyes as he sat down. “You didn’t have to be so rude to Pansy, you know.”

“Merlin,” she muttered, “does everyone talk about me behind my back, or is it just you two?” The answer, she thought immediately, was everyone.

“Aurora,” Draco said, huffing. “We are just trying to look out for you.” To that, she didn’t respond. “What is wrong with you?”

“What isn’t?” she spat in retaliation. “In case you hadn’t noticed, Draco, I’ve a lot on my plate at the minute!”

“Haven’t you always?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re always making excuses.”

“I am not.”

“I know you’ve been through a lot, with Arcturus and Lucretia and—”

“Don’t, Draco.”

“—now this, but you’re not the only person in the world, Aurora. It’s not such a big deal.”

“Maybe not for you,” she muttered. “But I would wager I am considerably more affected by all of this than you are. You don’t have to hear everyone whisper about you, you don’t have to have your name splashed across the newspaper with speculation about your life, you don’t have to wake up every day and hear the latest news about the person who murdered your mother and betrayed your family.” She hadn’t noticed she was trembling but she wasn’t. Some of the other Slytherins nearby were staring, having gone quiet. The silence was deafening. Don’t make a scene.

“I’m just saying you should be a bit more considerate of the fact that there are people here who actually care about you. Who don’t care about all this as long as you’re safe.”

“Don’t lie,” she told him, heart pounding. “Everyone cares about it. You’re always talking about it, thinking about it, you just don’t want me to know. But I know what you think, Draco. I’ve heard what you say to taunt Potter. I’ve heard what you say about my father.” It was now an effort to keep her voice steady and quiet.

“So what? It’s Potter.”

“This isn’t about Potter,” she snapped. “This is about my father. That’s the one thing I would never use against Potter and you know why. Because he was a Death Eater. Because he killed my mother and I hate him for it.”

Draco shook his head. “If it were me,” he said, “I wouldn’t care. He’s like my Aunt Bella. He did what he had to do. I’d be proud.”

Her stomach gave a sickening lurch. She stared at her cousin until she couldn’t bear it anymore, until his silence and his stare made her feel like she was burning. And then, with the blood rushing in her ears, Aurora stood up and walked out.

She tried to keep herself looking calm. Don’t make a scene. But a part of her felt like it was breaking. It was a part of her that loved her cousin more than anyone in the world and didn’t understand how he couldn’t understand her. It was a part of her that just wanted a family, and could never have it. Had never been allowed, not really.

Hunger gnawed at her, as did guilt, but she kept walking. The courtyard was beginning to frost already, but she saw no need to run. The cold of the night air was a welcome kiss on her cheeks.

She wandered over the bridge, down the hill. The lake was lit by the half-moon, hanging in the sky. A chill went up the back of her neck and she kept on walking, towards the Forest and the empty paddock where her Care of Magical Creatures class took place.

There was no one around. When she looked back up at the castle, she could see the warm amber lights of the Great Hall. She wanted to be there, but she couldn’t right now.

She turned back to the paddock, leaning on the fence. She saw the shadow of Death before her.

She was resigned to it by now. “I don’t want any more bad news,” she told him flatly. “I can’t.”

“I bring no ill tidings,” Death said. “Only greetings.”

“Right.”

“It seems you are ill at ease.”

“Yes.” She bit her tongue. Her mother’s final words rang in her head. Her father’s did too, but she didn’t want to hear them. He’d said I love you but it couldn’t be true. “Why are you here?”

“I admit I am curious,” said Death, tilting his head. “We have not spoken in some time. But I must have someone to speak to.”

“Demons?” she suggested drily, not in the mood for any such chatter. She wanted to be alone with the night sky. Perhaps there would be an aurora, if she was lucky. It was such a clear night.

“They are dull company. No, I prefer wizarding kind much more.”

“I see.”

If she looked past the paddock, towards the forest, she swore she could see another shadow, lurking. The Grim, perhaps — wouldn’t that be fitting? “Why can I see you?” she asked at last, in the lull.

“You are of House Black, are you not?” Death tilted his head. “I suppose I do, for lack of a better word, haunt your family. It is an ancient bond, forged in battle when this nation was very young, and your family’s nation even younger. I thought I was going to take your soul many years ago, but I did not. My plan was changed, not for the first time. You Blacks do like to defy Death — but you cannot escape me forever.”

“Why not just take me then?” Her voice had a jagged edge. “Why not? You took my family, all of them. Everyone who cared for me, they’re all gone! I’m the last one left, just... Take me! Why not?”

His smile stretched in the gloom. “It is not your time.” He leaned closer. “There are many things you do not understand, Aurora Black. And many more that you do not know. But I would remind — or perhaps, inform — you, that you are not the last of the Blacks.”

She let loose a shaky laugh. “In name I am. In faith I am. I’m... Alone.” She swallowed. “I’m an orphan. I have Andromeda and Ted and Dora and I care about them deeply, but they can’t replace my grandmother, or Arcturus, or Lucretia or Ignatius. I have Draco but he doesn’t understand. He’s a Malfoy more than a Black and his mother is the same. Bellatrix is mad and my father...” She broke off, shaking her head.

“You forget,” Death said softly. “Death knows far more than you do, child.” He inclined his head. “There is much you must learn. If you are a Black, then prove it to me. Learn to understand.”

“What do you mean, prove it?” she snapped, but in a blink, Death was gone. Were Aurora not so certain of her mind she might have thought she dreamed him. But Death was as real as anybody else.

She slumped over the paddock wall, and tilted her head so she could stare at the stars. Her eyes found Arcturus first. They trailed to the constellations of Cygnus, then Cassiopeia. Andromeda. Narcissa. Draco. They found Regulus and then Orion’s belt and then, below it, the brightest star. Sirius. A shiver ran through her.

She swore she could feel eyes on her back, but when she turned, there was nothing there except the darkness, Hagrid’s hut, and the castle in the distance. With a sigh, Aurora straightened up. Her stomach rolled. She needed to eat dinner, even if she was embarrassed to return. She’d barely eaten breakfast either, and at lunch had only picked at her food.

But as she made to begin the long walk up to the castle, she spied shapes coming through the gloom. Skeletal, dark horses, wreathed in pale grey.

They didn’t unsettle her like they once had. Instead, she walked towards them.

“Hello,” she whispered through the darkness. She reached out a shivering hand to stroke the mane of the one in front. It let out a low whinny and she sighed. “You’re not so scary,” she murmured. “Are you? You understand.”

The horse moved its head slowly, butting against her hand. “Did Death bring you here?”

It didn’t reply, though Aurora had hardly expected it to. She had never been particularly good with animals, except for her cat, but these things felt alright. Almost natural.

At the sound of a door opening, Aurora jumped and turned around sharply. Professor Hagrid was coming down the steps of his hut and she tried furiously to find somewhere to hide, but it was too late. He saw her through the dark.

“Who’s there?” he asked, in a booming voice. “Show yerself.” Her breath shuddered. “I’m warning you, if this is a student—”

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, standing up, hands held above her head. “Sorry, Professor it’s — it’s just me.”

He didn’t look any more hostile. In fact, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Aurora Black?”

She nodded, gulping. “I’m sorry, Professor. I just needed some air. And I...” She glanced at the horses. “I didn’t mean to come quite so far out.”

For a moment, she thought Hagrid was going to give her a lecture, but then he shook his head. “You bin getting in fights again?”

“No!” she said sharply. “I haven’t been getting in fights with anyone!”

He raised his eyebrows at that. She wondered what lies Potter and his friends had been feeding him. Instead, Aurora changed the subject. “What are they?” she asked, nodding to the horses.

Hagrid blinked in surprise, moving towards her. “Why, they’re thestrals.”

“Thestrals?”

“Type o’ magical horse. Carnivorous. Not many students can see him. Only those...” He heaved a sigh and didn’t meet her eye. “Only those who’ve known death.”

“Oh,” she said softly. She supposed she should have already known. Maybe she had, and just didn’t want to admit it to herself. “That... Makes sense.”

From behind her, Hagrid cleared his throat. “Listen, yeh, er, yeh shouldn’t be out o’ the castle this time of night. It’s not safe.”

“Sorry.”

The professor sighed. “Come on, then. You’re freezing and I ought to get you back up there. Yeh’ll miss dinner.”

“I’ve already eaten,” she said, and when he gave her a dubious look, continued, “and I’m not hungry.”

She was hungry, but he didn’t need to know that. She didn’t want to walk back in there. Surely she could find the Hogwarts kitchens and get something there. Or just wait until morning.

“Yeh oughta eat,” Hagrid told her, clapping a giant hand on her shoulder. “Listen, Black — Aurora,” he corrected. “Yeh can’t stay out here.”

“I’m fine. Really.”

He chuckled. “Whether yeh are or not, I’m a teacher and I oughta get you inside.”

Her heart sank but she knew he was right. He was being lenient with her anyways. “I just want to go back to the dungeons,” she told him, and he nodded.

“Alright, if that’s what yeh want. But yeh need to get out the cold, right?”

She nodded numbly. She stroked the nearest horse’s — thestral’s — neck, taking some comfort from the cold beneath her palm. Then she looked back at Professor Hagrid and stepped away.

“Alright.”

“Yeh don’t need to look so worried,” Hagrid told her as they started up the hill, “I won’t tell Professor Snape on yeh.”

She smiled despite herself. “Thank you, Professor.”

The wind blew around her hair and she drew her robes closer around herself as a shelter. “Do yeh want to tell me why yeh were out here on your own?”

Not particularly, she wanted to say, but Hagrid was looking at her expectantly and she knew it wasn’t really a question.

“I just needed to be alone,” she told him. “I had an argument with my friend. He’s mad at me and I’m mad at him and I just... Can’t be around other people right now.”

Hagrid nodded in understanding. “I know how you feel. It’s not easy.” He raised his eyebrows. “Animals can be better company sometimes.”

“Yeah.” She shrugged. “I suppose so.” She didn’t mention Death. How could she? Professor Hagrid would think she was mad, if he didn’t already.

They went on the rest of the way in silence. When they reached the castle doors, she could hear the faint buzz of the school coming from inside. She glanced up then, turning slightly for a last look at the stars. The sky had started to cloud over somewhat but she still picked out her favourite constellations. It brought a comforted smile to her face.

“Come on in now,” Hagrid told her. “And mind you get to your dormitory. No wandering about outside, yeh don’t know what could be out there.”

She winced but nodded, as they went inside. “I won’t, Professor. Thanks... For not telling on me to Professor Snape.”

He laughed. “Just you look after yourself. There are more dangerous things than Professor Snape.”

She didn’t reply to that, just nodded in gratitude and turned away to make her way towards the Slytherin dormitories, where she hoped she could be alone with her thoughts. Hagrid was right. There were far more dangerous things than Professor Snape. She just wished they didn’t have to concern her.

The common room was indeed quiet when she returned. A shadow drifted past the window that face onto the lake, but she didn’t have the heart to smile at it as she sank onto a sofa in the corner, far from her and her friends’ usual haunt. She took a book from the nearby shelf — a record of Merlin’s prophecies — but she barely managed to read it, staring at the window instead, as seaweed stroked the glass.

Something felt wrong. It wasn’t just the external world and the mess her father had caused. It felt like there was something wrong with her. Perhaps it was a result of all that, but she felt like her whole life was unravelling. She was lashing out, and she had no way to fix things that she could see. She hadn’t wanted to fight with Draco that day, or with Neville a few weeks before, or Gwendolyn at the start of term. She just felt angry, and helpless too. And she was slowly starting to realise that the world she’d inhabited, a world where she was stable and secure, wasn’t a world that could continue existing. Her world kept changing, usually for the worse, and she couldn’t stop it. The old world was slipping away. She thought perhaps it had been doing so ever since Arcturus died. There was no going back, but she didn’t really know what to expect going forward.

Her musings were broken by a tap on her shoulder. She turned sharply, ready to shove off whoever it was, but it was only Theodore, with Daphne just behind him, looking sheepish. Aurora sighed. “Please don’t do that.”

“Sorry.” He exchanged an anxious glance with Daphne. “I, uh, noticed you left dinner quite early.”

She raised her eyebrows and shifted to the corner of the couch, trying to look haughty. She knew she was failing. “And?”

“I thought I’d bring you something to eat.” From behind his back he produced a few napkins which, presumably, held food. Despite herself, Aurora smiled.

He and Daphne seemed to take that as permission to sit down on the same sofa as her.

Theodore handed over a bread roll with sliced ham, and then a small napkin’s-worth of chopped tomatoes, which oozed slightly when she took them. “Exciting,” she said, but couldn’t hide her gratefulness as her stomach stirred. “Thanks.”

Daphne shrugged and tossed her hair. “Pansy’s throwing a right tantrum, we’re better off here.”

“Why is Pansy having a tantrum?”

“Oh, something to with Millicent and hair bows. And Draco is simply sulking.” She sighed, tilting her head back. “We were suffering tremendously.”

She couldn’t bring herself to smile properly at that, and instead she picked at the roll. “What have you been reading?” Theodore asked, with genuine curiosity.

“Prophecies of Merlin.”

“Oh, Trelawney recommended we have a look for that,” Daphne said cheerfully. “Do you mind?” she asked, already reaching across Aurora.

“Be my guest,” she muttered.

The pair of them discussed the prophecies and their recent homework assignment — which seemed to involve tea leaves — quietly next to Aurora as she ate in silence. At least the low chatter beside her was somewhat of a distraction from her own thoughts and the silence, until their housemates started reappearing. In the window’s reflection, she could see Pansy and Draco come in with their arms linked, going to sit by their usual spot. She heard Lucille’s high laugh. She stared at the floor, and Daphne closed her book loudly.

“I think I’m being summoned,” she said, with a glance to where Lucille was waiting by the coffee table. “We’re supposed to be going over the Charms homework?”

“I’ve already done it,” Aurora said flatly.

“Likewise.”

Daphne rolled her eyes. “Of course you both have.” She set the book down on the arm of the couch and stood up, before smoothing her hair down over her shoulders. “Good evening then.”

She flounced off and Aurora felt a small pang in her chest. No one beckoned her, even though she could feel Draco’s eyes flicking to her every now and then.

Theodore looked exceedingly uncomfortable beside her, and she went back to staring at the lake in silence, hoping that he would go away and she could be left to brood in peace.

“We all heard a bit of what you and Draco said to each other.”

Aurora clenched her jaw, staring even more determinedly out of the window. “I’m sure you were suitably entertained.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” His voice was low and somewhat wary. Aurora turned to stare at him. “And... Your father?”

“I’ve already told you, Theodore,” she said in a clipped voice. “I don’t want to discuss this. At all. I’m perfectly alright and even if I wasn’t, I doubt you’d understand anyway.”

“Wouldn’t I?” He stared at her. “You know, you’re not the only person in the world with a family who were Death Eaters. You’re not the only with relatives in Azkaban. You’re not even the only one with a father in Azkaban.”

“Except my father isn’t in Azkaban,” she pointed out sharply, “is he? He’s escaped and I would say that puts me in a rather unique position, especially considering I barely have any other family.” Theodore made a derisive sound. “No one understands and that’s fine. I wouldn’t expect anyone to understand. You’re all perfectly fine, everyone knows Draco and Pansy and Lucille’s fathers were all Death Eaters but it doesn’t affect them! They have jobs and money and mansions and families that understand them! They’re all perfectly happy to go about their lives, and so are you, so don’t lecture me on how we’re the same, because we’re not.”

“You think you’re the only one with a complicated family?”

She scoffed. “Not the only one, but I gather none of you had your mother killed by your father, only for your father to murder thirteen people and cause the death of your godparents, then have you sent to the very family he betrayed before this. And I don’t think any of you have seen your grandmother die, and then your great grandfather, and I don’t think any of you have lost four family members in two months and left you as the only free member of the family bearing your name, sent to live with people who were disowned before you were even born, because every other member of your family either died, turned their back on you, is locked up in Azkaban, or murdered another family member.”

Theodore winced and looked away. She thought that would be the end of it — it usually was, with Theodore - but then he turned around and sighed. “I never knew my father,” he said, “I doubt I ever will. I know my grandfather shares his views and is lucky he didn’t get caught at the end of the war. He raised my brothers and I to think the same as them. Just like Draco and Pansy and everyone else was raised.” His eyes were focused on Aurora and she squirmed at the attention. “I gather you read Muggle classics.”

“My great-grandfather believed they had some literary merit, yes,” she said stiffly, “and for much of the canon we can’t establish whether or not the authors were muggles or not. Ancient civilisations were rife with magic.”

He smiled. “Precisely. And I know you have Muggle blood, on your mother’s side.”

“Is this merely an excuse to insult me? Has your ego been so suddenly and unnecessarily inflated?”

“It’s not an insult. You know that.” She pursed her lips. “You’re bright and you know that, too. Certainly brighter than Vincent or Gregory. Tearston’s brighter than them and she’s full Muggleborn as far as anybody knows. And that’s just Slytherins. Hermione Granger - I know you don’t like her but don’t make that face before you hear what I have to say - is still one of the best in our year. My grandfather says it’s preposterous and Dumbledore is rigging the curriculum in favour of Gryffindors and Muggleborns, but I don’t think we can dismiss it.”

“Is there a point to all of this, Theodore, or are you merely trying to bore me to sleep?”

He shrugged, but she could see that his jaw and shoulders tightened. “I suppose only that none of us are fully agreed with our families. Daphne’s family doesn’t give a toss about blood, anyway, just ask her about it. We’re all... Complicated.”

“Maybe,” Aurora said, folding her arms. “But like I said, I’m still in a bit of a unique situation. I don’t even know who my father is and everyone judges me based on him. My family hated him for being a blood traitor but then he betrayed his other family too. He betrayed me twice, effectively. He’s a murderer and a Death Eater and I really don’t think any of you understand that he could and would kill me, and that I do hate him — for both sides of him. And he is my father. I think that’s complicated enough.”

“I don’t agree with my family either, you know,” Theodore told her. “They’re all I’ve got, but, I think they’re wrong. My grandfather is... Agressive about it all. He raves about his opinions and I always have to wonder how he’s convinced himself so strongly one way.”

“But not convinced you?” Aurora asked pointedly, eyebrows raised.

“He’s convinced my brothers. But I don’t see it. Not anymore. I’m not old enough to remember the war but I remember more of the aftermath than they do. It didn’t fade quickly, after all.” Aurora shifted on the couch. Her grandmother had kept her shielded from much of that, from much of society. She didn’t want to muddle things. She didn’t want Aurora to go the same way as her sons — not when there were still whispers about Sirius, and rumours about Regulus. 

“My parents weren’t good people,” Theodore went on, voice heavier. He was staring at the wall too, like he found it easier to talk to the stones than to talk to Aurora. “I don’t particularly approve of murder, funnily enough. My brothers want to believe they were doing the right thing, because I suppose most people do want to believe the best of their parents, unless they’re told otherwise. Thing is, Aurora, I might not know what it’s like to be in your situation, but I get how you feel about your father, to an extent. And I just wanted you to know that you — well.” He bit his lip and looked down for a second, before his gaze flicked up to meet Aurora’s eyes. “You’re not alone.”

She stared at him for a moment, wondering how on Earth she was supposed to respond to that. She wondered why Theodore expected her to able to. Did he want her to agree? Did he want her to decide now, suddenly, that everything was fine because he had told her that she wasn’t alone — as if he knew that? Nausea rolled through her. 

“Well, if that’s all.” She struggled to keep her voice even as she stood up, napkin folded as neatly as possible in her hand. “I would like you to know that whatever you think, I am likely a far better judge of whether not I am alone. And it’s wonderful that you think you understand, but you simply don’t, and I doubt that you, or anybody else, ever will. So stop trying, Theodore. I don’t want your pity.”

He pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows. In the silence, Aurora took her cue to leave, with a sharp glance in the direction of Draco and Pansy.

But then Theodore said, “You know, Aurora, you really don’t make it easy.”

“Make what easy?”

“Trying to be nice to you.”

She turned again to stare at him. “Perhaps I don’t want anyone to be nice to me, Nott. Perhaps I don’t need you to tell me how to feel. Perhaps I’d rather that you left me alone.”

His eyes glinted, and he looked doubtful. But Aurora didn’t want to discuss this further. She didn’t want to dwell on the mess that was her life and she didn’t want to dwell on Theodore was trying to say. “Or perhaps you just find it easier to be a bitch to everyone else than to deal with the truth.”

Anger flickered in her chest, hot, but she just stared Theodore down coolly. Why should she care if she was being a bitch? The world was being a bitch to her. It had been doing so for the past fourteen years and didn’t show any signs of stopping.

“Perhaps,” she said quietly, and then straightened, flicking her hair. “Thank you for the food, Theodore. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll have an early night.”

But she lay awake for some time before Gwendolyn arrived in their room. She’d been called a bitch before, but it was very different to hear it from Theodore Nott than from Ron Weasley. She actually liked Theodore. He hadn’t deserved it, not really — though she knew what she’d said hadn’t been the worst she had ever said, from it, she knew he meant well. Part of her wanted to be nice, to just be a good person who people liked, but no one was ever going to see her that way. And sometimes she couldn’t help but snap at people, because people were so infuriating to be around now. 

But a small worm of guilt did squirm in her stomach. She was under no obligation to confide in anyone and she knew that. Maybe she didn’t handle such things as well as she could, but she didn’t for the life of her know what people expected. For her to suddenly spill her heart out? To cry and cause a scene and let the whole world know how upset she was? She could never do that. That was showing weakness and for her to show weakness, was for House Black to show weakness. Right now, that was the last thing she could bring herself to do.

Still, when Gwendolyn arrived in their room at half past nine, Aurora stared into the darkness and asked her, “Gwen? Do you think I’m... Not always a very nice person?”

Her silence was answer enough. Aurora rolled over, pulled her knees up to her chest and resisted the urge to pummel her pillow. 

“Aurora, you... aren’t a bad person. You’re a great friend.” She could tell Gwen was saying what a friend should say, and what Aurora wanted to hear. But she wasn’t sure she believed her.

“Theodore called me a bitch.”

She could almost sense Gwen’s wince. “What did you do?”

There it was. Certainly, Gwen thought that if Theodore had said it, it was justified. And that meant that what she had said originally, she hadn’t entirely meant. “It doesn’t matter. I’ve pissed off everyone today.”

“You haven’t pissed me off.”

“Give it some time,” she replied. “It’s not quite ten o’clock yet, I’m sure I’ll manage.”

There was silence for a second before Gwen said, “Aurora, I know you don’t like talking about things. But you can, you know.”

“I know. I do still have a functioning voice.”

Gwen gave a small laugh. “Alright. Yeah, I know.” When Aurora said nothing, instead mulling over her conversations from earlier that day, Gwen said lowly, “Night then.”

“Yeah.” Aurora sighed, wrapping her arms tight around herself. “Goodnight, Gwen.”


	44. Cornered

Draco didn’t wait for her in the common room like he usually did. Aurora lingered by herself, watching everybody else go past, until she realised he wasn’t coming. When she got to the Great Hall, having walked there alone, he was already seated with the others, and there was no seat saved for her.

She didn’t like the way they all spoke as if she wasn’t there. It was as if no one noticed her absence. She didn’t want to sit down, because she was certain that her face would betray her feelings. Her gaze drifted to the Gryffindor Table, spying Potter and Granger and Weasley, all deep in conversation. They were probably talking about her.

With that bitter thought, she steeled herself. She smoothed her hair, tilted her chin, looked down her nose ever so slightly, and stalked over to her table.

“Good morning,” she said, with a false smile. Blaise stared up at her, though both Pansy and Draco remained pointedly engaged in their own conversation about the latest Weird Sisters album. “How are we all today?”

After a moment of intense and pointed staring, Vincent got the point and shifted away from Millicent so that Aurora could slip in between them. No one answered her question, and she pursed her lips as she reached for some toast. “I’ll take that as, not brilliantly?”

Lucille scoffed loudly. “That would be an understatement, I think.”

The silence was painful. Aurora bit into her toast and watched as everyone tried to manoeuvre around the awkwardness. It seemed everyone was unhappy with her today, but she didn’t want to apologise for anything now, in the Great Hall, in front of everyone. She was sorry, but she didn’t want to have to address it.

They did eventually return to conversation, but no one went to any particular effort to include Aurora except Millicent, who rambled about the Wimbourne Wasps’ new Keeper and generally didn’t ask for Aurora’s input. It was better than complete silent treatment, though.

When they got to Potions, she was in a bitter mood, made worse by Weasley sneering that all her friends had finally gotten rid of her, and Neville wringing his hands because he thought a fight was going to break out every five seconds. Her attempt at the day’s work was ghastly and Neville’s even worse, resulting in both of them earning detentions to scrub out cauldrons the next again evening.

“Aurora,” he asked tentatively at the end of class, as everyone was filing out, “is everything alright?”

“What do you think?” she snapped, and made to storm away. Potter got in her path at the back of the room. “Oh, what do you want?”

He glared at her. “Wood’s appealing the Quidditch result. Just so you know.”

“Oh, dear.” She tried not to laugh, afraid it might turn into a scream of frustration. She did not have the patience for Potter today. “Whatever will I do with all the evidence on my side?”

“You know it wasn’t a fair result, Black. Admit it.”

“Are you just saying this because it’s me, and I’m a Slytherin, or do you actually believe that this wasn’t fair? I outflew you and I outlasted you, And might I remind you, since you seem so intent on ignorance, that I prevented you from breaking your neck. The least you can do is show a little gratitude, though I suppose I can’t expect so much of you.”

“I would have won if those Dementors weren’t there,” he said, but it had lost some of its venom.

“Not necessarily.”

“We were that high up, no one even knows if you did catch the Snitch.”

“They have flesh memories, Potter, please at least do your research before you bother me with these things.”

He pursed his lips and Aurora raised her eyebrows in question. “Look, I know you did, sort of... Stop me falling... As badly...”

“I saved your neck, Potter.”

“Well, you didn’t — I still could’ve won. So thanks, but no thanks.”

She stared at him. “Are you joking, Potter? You’re really this petty?”

Weasley muttered, “Look who’s talking,” and Aurora shot him a fierce glare.

Then, she straightened and met Potter’s eyes, ware of Finnigan and Thomas gathered near her too. “If that’s all Potter, and if you don’t have any more gratitude to give, then I’m afraid I must be off. I have very little interest in entertaining you today.”

“Doesn’t look like you have much else to do.” Aurora followed his gaze to the corner of the classroom where Draco and the rest of her friends usually sat, and saw that they had already left. Her stomach twisted. “What? Are your friends embarrassed that you fainted? That you’re not as tough as you think?”

“More likely none of us can bear to be in the same room as you for longer than is strictly necessary.” She smiled fakely, trying to pretend that she wasn’t rattled. “Now, if you’ll forgive me, Potter... I do have a class to get to.”

She made to side-step him, but Weasley was suddenly in the way. To her right stood Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, watching the conversation unfold, and on her left, Neville was being absolutely useless. She glanced over her shoulder to where Professor Snape was also watching, and doing nothing. But there was a strange sort of curiosity, if one could call it that. He was almost analysing, like he was waiting for something. Like he recognised something. Still, that unsettled her, too. She was surrounded by Gryffindors and suddenly something uncomfortable coiled in her gut. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled, as though in warning.

Her voice came out taut. “I would appreciate if you would get out of my way, Weasley.”

“Or what, Black? What are you going to do if I don’t?”

“Well, what are you going to do?” She tried to keep her cool but it was hard when faced with so many people who clearly meant her ill will. “You’ll have to move out of my way at some point, and I’m sure there is another class due in here. It would make life easier for all of us if you would simply move, instead of standing there like a prat.”

“Say that again,” Potter said.

“You don’t scare me, Potter,” she drawled, but she caught a glimpse of his wand. They wouldn’t dare do anything in front of Professor Snape but that didn’t mean they didn’t want to. “Wind your neck in. Before you break it. I sure as hell won’t catch you.”

“Oi,” Finnigan started, eyes flashing, “leave off Harry. It’s your fault those Dementors were there in the first place, isn’t it?”

She felt sick to her stomach. There was no one else here to defend her, to give her some comfort. Neville was fucking quivering, for Merlin’s sake. She looked at him expectantly — but he didn’t even dare stick up for her and that angered her more than anything. Pathetic, she thought. Where was that supposed Gryffindor loyalty?

“You know,” she told them, nearly trembling, “you may all think yourselves as having the moral high ground because you’re Gryffindors and I’m a Slytherin, but here I see it’s five to one. You’re all cowards. Now, move, Weasley.”

But they seemed to be enjoying not moving. Just standing there, waiting for her to react, to lash out. She could not give them the satisfaction. Her pride wouldn’t let them see that they were bothering her, that this sudden and new isolation was making her head cloud.

“You’ve some nerve,” Potter said. “At least my family weren’t in with Voldemort.”

The name gave her a start. No one said the Dark Lord’s name. She felt like she’d been doused in cold water. Neville was shrinking back, all she could see was Potter and her rage that he would dare involve her family, and she was about to lunge forward into the closing darkness, seeing the look on his face that said he would do the same—

“Mr Potter.” It was Snape’s voice. “Weasley, Finnigan, Thomas.” She could hear the disdain in his voice. “Longbottom. Five Gryffindors on one Slytherin, whatever will McGonagall say?”

“Sir,” Weasley said immediately, “Black started it.”

“I started nothing—”

“You must think me blind, Weasley,” Snape drawled. “Each of you will have five points taken from Gryffindor.”

“That’s completely—”

“For disturbing the peace of my classroom.” Aurora could hardly dare believe it. Why the fuck was Snape getting involved? His beady eyes were focused directly on Potter with utter loathing. “Now, move along. Your Head of House will be no more lenient than I. Black.”

Aurora jumped to attention. He didn’t meet her eyes, still glaring at Potter with a severe hatred she didn’t understand the root of. “Yes, professor?”

“Stay behind. I must speak with you. Professor Binns will not note your lateness. You five. Get out of my sight.”

And so the lions scurried like rats. Aurora was left breathless, but standing with Snape disconcerted her even more.

“Close the door,” he told her, and she did so with unease coiled tight in her gut.

Then she turned to him, trying to remain a look of polite neutrality.

“Your performance in today’s class was abysmal,” he said, which was a lovely start.

“I am aware it wasn’t my usual standard, Professor. I will do better.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Will you? I am not so sure.” She rapped her foot in annoyance. “Thought it pains me to admit, Black, you are not so dunderheaded as most of my students.”

She bit out a sarcastic, “Thanks, Professor,” in response.

“Your Potions partner, however.” He pursed his lips. “Has now proven himself not only magically inept but, as you pointed out yourself, moments ago, a coward.” She wished she could have said he was wrong, but he wasn’t. Neville hadn’t even tried to stick up for her. And he still called himself her friend. “I would advise that you change seats, Miss Black.” She blinked in surprise. “I would hate to see your abilities squandered.”

This was getting stranger and stranger. Snape was almost complimenting her, for Snape. “Right,” she said forcedly. “Who would you have me sit by?”

“Preferably a member of your own house. Though I would advise against Crabbe or Goyle, or Oliphant for that matter.”

“I see.”

“Miss Black, I would also suggest you avoid Mr Potter.”

“I always do my best, sir.”

There was a strange glint in his eye, like he was almost amused — but not in a nice way.

“There are some in this school, Miss Black, who believe all members of Slytherin House to be alike. And who believe all who do not align with their own views are inferior.” She swallowed tightly. “Boys like Mr Potter do not change, nor do their heads deflate. When it comes down to it, you see, they are cowards. They would save their own necks before anyone else’s. I would not see a Slytherin brought down by the actions of a foolish Gryffindor.”

At that, we let out a breathy, nervous laugh. “We’ve never really gotten along, Professor.”

“I am aware.” He rolled his eyes and stared up at the ceiling. “But children can be cruel, Miss Black, and life is rarely fair. Nor are some of my colleagues. I do not care for your antics or those of Mr Potter, or whatever inane Quidditch rivalry has built between you.” She clenched her fist. He knew damn well this was not merely a Quidditch rivalry — it was just a handy disguise. “See to it that you and Mr Potter do not come to blows. Regardless,” he added, with a tone of cold caution, “of who strikes first.”

“Right. Of course, Professor. I won’t. I am trying to stay out of his way.”

His eyes glinted. “Try harder, Black.”

She was still confused when she got to her History classroom, where Binns was already lecturing. No one had saved her a seat and so she had to slip into one next to Leah MacMillan, who didn’t look pleased at all. Her mind reeled and reeled all lesson.

She sat by Gwendolyn and Robin at lunch, still trying to digest what happened and deal with the fact that Potter and Weasley were now both glaring at her worse than ever, as if she had asked them to act the way they did — or asked Snape to intervene. She could at least ignore them in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and be somewhat cheered up by the fact that Lupin had given her an O on her most recent essay, which she had spent many hours perfecting. Herbology was no more wretched than usual, but when the time came for her Care of Magical Creatures class, she was at a loss.

They were to work in groups of three to care for a flobberworm — the most pathetic creatures she had ever seen and at least ten steps down from hippogriffs — but Draco had already teamed up with Blaise and Pansy, and none of them seemed particularly welcoming when she looked in their direction. Not wanting to face the prospect of ending up alone, she latched onto Millicent the second she could see her.

“You’re going to work with me,” she said quickly, and Millicent blinked.

“I was going to... With Vince and Greg...”

“Lucille looks like she has that covered.” Lucille was actually outright glaring at Aurora, and regarded Vincent and Gregory with an air of disdain, but Aurora forced a smile onto her face. “Come on, our flobberworm isn’t going to feed himself, is he?”

“No...” Millicent said, frowning. “But you’re being weird.”

“Everyone’s being weird, today, Millie.” Millicent just stared at her. “Look, there’s Theodore!”

The one person she did want to talk to. At the sound of his name, he turned around. He looked marginally less frosty than Pansy did and that was good enough for Aurora, who beckoned him over. “You’ll make up our trio, won’t you?” she asked politely.

He stared at her, then glanced behind him, towards a very agitated Lucille. “I’m not really sure...”

“I would like to apologise.” It was probably best to get it over and done with, even if she could feel her cheeks flaming. She told herself it was so she could get a half decent Potions partner for next week. “For the way I responded to you yesterday evening. I understand you were only trying to be a friend, and I do appreciate it. I just don’t want to discuss the things you wanted me to discuss and I hope that you can respect that.”

Millicent’s brow was creased deep in confusion, and Theodore’s face was rather blank. “You’re... Apologise?”

“Yes,” she said, clippedly. “I am. I was unnecessarily rude to you and I apologise.”

“Oh.” Theodore blinked, and then laughed. “I wasn’t expecting that.” She looked at him expectantly, not enjoying the uncertainty that crawled over her. “But it’s... Alright.” He smiled but his face was still clouded by confusion. “Thanks. Shall we get to work then?”

When he and Millicent turned around, Aurora breathed a great sigh of relief. It was one less thing to worry about. Now she just had to find Draco and Pansy alone, which would be more difficult seeing as they both seemed intent on avoiding her. Still, she managed to catch Hagrid’s eye, and he grinned at her, with a tentative thumbs up. Lips quirking, she mimicked the motion, for a fleeting second, and went over to fetch a flobberworm from him.

“Feeling better?” he asked in his gruff voice, and she nodded.

“Somewhat, yes. In some regards.” She caught Weasley looking at her, and raised her eyebrows. “Not so much in others. But I’m sure flobberworms will take my mind off things.”

Hagrid laughed weakly. “Sure they will. You get to yer group now, good lass.”

Aurora allowed herself a faint smile as she returned to Theodore and Millicent. And she made sure it was especially bright when she flounced past Potter and Weasley, just to spite them. It felt good.

She didn’t manage to get Draco or Pansy alone that evening to talk to them, but pretended that she was not bothered. And her mood was improved by the fact that at least Theodore was talking to her, and she could sit with him, Gwendolyn, and Robin at dinner.

Her best chance, she decided, was to try and talk to Draco at Quidditch practice on Saturday morning. Normally they would walk to breakfast and then the pitch together, but Draco was already in the Great Hall when she arrived, and he pointedly ignored her when she sat next to him and attempted to make conversation. He left not three minutes after she got there, leaving her frustrated.

Cassius sat down next to her in his place, Graham Montague on his other side.

“What’s all this I hear about Potter and some appeal?” he asked casually, taking a boiled egg. “Flint’s doing his nut. We thought we had better find out what’s going on first.”

“It’s probably all talk,” she admitted, rolling her eyes. “The decision’s been made, and even if there is an investigation, I know he didn’t touch the Snitch. The match is mine, he’s just a sore loser.”

“But he told you he’s making an appeal to Hooch?”

“He told me that Oliver Wood is, but yes.” She took a sip of tea. “I doubt it will get anywhere. Potter wants to make a point. He’s ashamed and angry — largely because he hates me.”

Montague snorted. “And they call us sneaks.”

“Oh, I’m sure I was accused of summoning the Dementors myself at one point.” She tried to sound casual about it, but she knew the insinuation had been deeper than that. It had undoubtedly been about her father.

“Potter hasn’t been hassling you, has he?” Cassius asked, glancing to the Gryffindor Table, which was empty except for Hermione Granger and Percy Weasley.

“No more than usual,” she told him, though it wasn’t quite accurate.

“You need us to sort him out?” Montague asked, and it took her a second to realise he was being serious.

“Really?”

“You’re our Seeker.” He shrugged. “Slytherins look after their own, Black. Just say the word. We could take that scrawny git in a fight, and his mate Weasley.”

She chuckled at the thought, knowing they probably could. “Thank you,” she said, rolling her shoulders back. “But I can handle a couple of Gryffindors fine well on my own.”

Montague laughed and, seemingly assured that he didn’t have to fight any third years today, started shovelling down his breakfast. The three of them wound up walking to the pitch together and Aurora had to admit that having them all but offer to take on Potter and Weasley in her defense was rather nice, if unnecessary.

The sight of them seemed to sour Draco’s mood, though. When Flint made them fly against each other, things got worse.

“You know,” Aurora tried to shout over the wind, as they both did laps around the pitch, “I didn’t mean to fight with you!” He went on pointedly as if he could not hear her. “Draco! I’m talking to you, don’t ignore me!” Draco pushed ahead and she urged her broom to keep pace. “For Merlin’s sake, what do you want me to say? That I’m not going to stay with family over Christmas just because you don’t like it? That I’m going to change my opinion about my father because yours taught you a messed up way of looking at things.”

Draco whipped around. “Don’t talk about my father, Aurora.”

“Then don’t talk about mine!”

His cheeks were red from the cold but his eyes were bright as he snapped, “Why are you acting like this?”

“Like what, Draco?” she bit back.

“Like — I don’t know!”

“Well, that’s helpful!” She sped onwards, heart beating furiously.

“We all think you’re being ridiculous.”

“Who’s we?”

“Me. Pansy, Lucille, Daphne, Blaise. Vince and Greg.”

“Ah, so you do have a whole network talking about me behind my back. Is it a club now? Do you have badges?” He rolled his eyes and dropped into a deep dive. She followed. “What?”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with you, Aurora.” She let out a shrill laugh. “You’re meant to be my best friend.”

“I am, you’re just not acting like mine.”

“Oh, that’s rich! Who stole my place on the team?”

Her mouth fell agape. “I didn’t steal it, I filled in for you because you were too busy being a wimp about your arm!” The words were harsh, she knew — but so were his. “I’m still alternate and you were fully on board with it before I won the game!” It struck her. “Is that it? You didn’t think I’d win and now that I have you’re jealous?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Aurora.”

“Well, then what is it? What is your problem?”

“You!” he shouted, wheeling his broom around. “Acting all high and mighty all of a sudden. All righteous about the war! Reminding everyone how not like your father you are — how not like our fathers you are. I hate to break it to you, Aurora, but he’s not the only one in your family who was on that side of the war. And you’re not the only one who was affected by it!”

The truth sat uncomfortably in her stomach. She didn’t even have anything to say to that, or anything she wanted to say — how could she even begin to address that? — and so she pointed her broom upwards and soared towards the clouds. Her eyes smarted — from the cold, she told herself, and the wind.

Flint didn’t look happy when she and Draco touched down with the rest of team at the end of practice, but he didn’t call either of them out. He just ordered Aurora back to the castle for a shower, like usual, and, laughing and chatting, all the boys went their own way to the changing rooms. She struggled not to punch something on her way out of the stands.

But waiting there, quite placid, was that same black dog she had kept seeing. She glared at it as she passed. Someone ought to deal with it, she thought venomously.

It barked after her but she didn’t turn around. She just kept going, until the sound faded.

Aurora spent most of the day in her bedroom, or else in the common room. She had plenty of studying to do. Her grades had slipped in Charms and Transfiguration, and she needed to ensure these next essays were perfect if she wanted to beat Granger out for top spot. But her frustration didn’t help matters at all, and it was almost — but not quite — a relief when she made it to detention at half past seven.

Snape did not acknowledge their brief conversation the day before, but sent her quietly to one side of the classroom, where, she noted, the cauldrons were not quite as dirty. When Neville’s face appeared in the doorway it was white and he was nearly shaking. It was enough to make Aurora feel pity for his fear. She wanted to give him a reassuring smile, but halted. He had not even done so much as that to defend her before Weasley and Potter.

“You can get to work on that side,” Snape told Neville, barely bothering to glance up from his desk, where he now appeared to be marking essays. “No talking and no magic. Once you are finished, you can leave.”

Aurora nodded at this and Neville did too. Scrubbing cauldrons was a bit of a mean punishment and it wasn’t something anyone enjoyed doing, but it still wasn’t the worst. At any rate, Aurora felt it was preferable to being in the common room in suffocating silence as her friends all had their own conversations without her. Draco had barely looked at her during dinner.

There were at least a dozen to go through, and by the time she finished, her arms were aching. Quidditch practice tomorrow afternoon would be a nightmare if Flint made her do the Beater or Chaser drills, and knowing her luck right now, she thought he would likely choose the former. When she was done, Aurora glanced at Snape, who was still fixated on his work. She coughed politely, shifting, and looked to Neville, who was partway through his final cauldron.

“If you are finished, Miss Black, you may leave. See that your work improves.”

“Thank you, Professor.”

“Do not thank me, just get out of my classroom.”

She grimaced and held back an insult. “Yes, Professor.”

As she strode out of the classroom, Aurora caught Neville’s frantic look for her not to leave him alone with him. Trying not to sigh, she shook her head, but motioned to the door. He was almost done and she had nothing to return to the common room for; she stayed just outside in the corridor for ten minutes before Neville emerged.

“He’s terrifying,” he said after the door closed behind them.

“Isn’t he just?” She forced a smile. “Listen, Neville, we need to discuss some things.” Perhaps she should have spoken to him long ago. The matter still would not be easy to address; but it was clear to her that, while in academia their partnership had once been mutually beneficial, it was no longer. That didn’t make it any easier. She knew Neville was not of a particularly strong temperament.

He had the audacity to appear oblivious, though, and confused, and that made everything so much more difficult. Wincing, Aurora said, “Walk with me. I’ll see you get to Gryffindor Tower in one piece.”

“I don’t even know the password,” he muttered. “Sir Cadogan keeps changing it and I keep forgetting. Hermione Granger keeps having to let me in.”

Aurora bristled. “Well, I’m sure we’ll find our saviour Granger haunting the library somewhere.”

Neville didn’t seem to get her lack of humour, and tried to tease, “As if you’re not in the library even more than she is. I’ve hardly seen you at meals, are you there all the time?”

She didn’t want to respond, and had to bite back a less than kind reply. “Listen. Neville.” They started up the narrow stone steps to the first floor. “I know you have a difficult time standing up to people. I get it. But I really don’t appreciate you standing by as your housemates — sorry, your friends — gang up on me.”

Neville went pale. “I really wanted to say something, Aurora, I did. It wasn’t fair at all, but Ron and Harry, they’re my friends, and I don’t — don’t really have many of those.”

She tutted. “And am I not your friend also?”

“Well, yes of course you are! You’ve been brilliant! But I don’t want to get on the wrong side of them.”

That brought a sneer to her lips. “But you would have no qualms over getting on the wrong side of me, presumably?”

He stumbled over a step and stared at her. “Well — I wouldn’t — you know I like you, Aurora. You’re my friend.”

“So you keep saying.”

All of a sudden, Neville looked very small. “You don’t understand. Everyone in Gryffindor thinks I’m stupid. None of them appreciate me. I just... Want to be friends. And none of them like you.”

“And so you would throw me to the lions.” She took in a shaky breath. “I see where we stand, Neville. I have tried to help you. I don’t believe you stupid, but I do stand by what I said yesterday, to Potter and Weasley. They are cowards and you are too.” He flinched. “I will no longer sit by you in Potions, nor will I assist you.”

“But...” He floundered, And came to a stop. “Aurora, I need you! You know what I’m like, you know I’ll fail if I’m on my own! You know Snape hates me!”

“I do,” she said as softly as she could. She couldn’t snap on him. If she did then he would go straight to Potter and Weasley and — possibly worst of all — Granger and Gryffindor house would only intensify its crusade against her. “Neville, sometimes you are your own worst enemy. As is your fear. You are capable in Potions, you have proven that because I have been there and given you that confidence. Yes, I have given you other help, but you are capable. I don’t want you to rely on me — especially when it is apparent that I can no longer rely on you.”

“But you’re my friend!”

“I wasn’t yesterday,” she snapped. “I’m never your friend when I need you, only when it is the other way about!” He pursed his lips. “I am sorry, Neville. I don’t want to be on bad terms with you, but I need to be on my own in Potions from now on. And I think you need it too.”

“You always say you don’t need anyone to defend you,” he said, frowning as thought that meant she couldn’t want someone to. “You said Ron and Harry don’t bother you.”

“They don’t,” she said, though it was becoming more and more of a lie. “You do.”

He went paler like he’d been slapped in the face. “I’m sorry, Aurora! B-but I don’t know how to stand up to people!”

“Didn’t you get ten house points awarded for that in first year?” she asked coolly.

“But it’s... Harry’s my friend!”

“Well, you can sit with him in class, then.”

“But he’s... He’s not as helpful as you.”

“Helpful?” She whirled around, patience not dwindling so much as burning out of existence. “I’m merely helpful?”

“Well - you’re my friend! I thought we help each other?” His eyes were wide and for a fleeting moment, Aurora’s anger faded.

“Neville,” she said softly, “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, stepping sharply away. “You know I’m no good at Potions.”

“I’ve told you enough times,” she snapped, “you can be good, you just have to stop being so bloody wet about it.”

“Why are you being so mean?”

“Because you - I don’t know!” She shook her head, cheeks and eyes burning. This was going further than she had wanted it to, and her words were getting harsher. She knew that, but she didn’t know how to stop. Her anger had been building and building and now, she could feel it boiling over. But Theodore’s words rang in her head. That she was being mean and rude and unfair. She tried to cool down. “Look, Neville. We both got what we wanted. But if you’re not my friend then I’m not just going to help you without having at least a little bit of your loyalty.”

“I - I am loyal! I am your friend but I just... I don’t want to get into fights with other people.”

“I’m not asking you to. I’m just asking you not to turn your back on me when it suits you. If you won’t act like a friend, I have nothing to gain from helping you. And frankly, if you aren't grateful-”

“I am!”

“Then show it!”

“You know I’m not - not good at these things! Why’d you be nice to me all that time if you didn’t - when I couldn’t stick up for myself! I thought we were always friends!”

“Oh, Merlin, Neville, I felt sorry for you!” As soon as she said it, Neville went pale and she wish she could take it back. Those stupid words.

His face clouded. “Why - why’d you feel sorry for me?”

“You know why.”

“I - I don’t. Because of Malfoy?” Confusion creased his brow. Then, his eyes caught hers, properly, and it was like something dawned. Recognition, almost. He turned away. “Malfoy’s horrible, Aurora.”

“This isn’t about Draco,” she snapped, anger lashing through her.

“But he is! Don’t you know how he treats other people?”

“I don’t want to hear this.”

“It’s true! He’s mean, Aurora!” He seemed to shrink back, eyes widening in realisation. “You know, you’re mean sometimes, too.”

She scoffed. “Everyone’s a bit mean sometimes, Neville. Ron Weasley’s a bit mean sometimes. Harry bloody Potter’s a bit mean sometimes.” Aurora shook her head. She felt like she was going to explode. Everything was all just becoming a bit too much. “Get away from me, Neville.”

“Why are you being like this? Aurora, I don’t—”

“I said, get away!” she yelled sharply, and he gave a rather pathetic whimper, hurrying to the other side of the corridor.

“I’m sorry—”

“Don’t,” she snapped, head pounding, already regretting her words and at the same time feeling her anger just get worse. “So. You can talk back to me but not to Weasley and Potter?” She scoffed. “Figures. Goodbye, Neville. I’m sure you’ll find me when you need to apologise.”

She swept away before he could answer, heart hammering. Maybe she had been too harsh, in the moment, in her fury. But it had felt so good to get her anger out somehow. And she’d needed to. She’d really needed to. Even if she shouldn’t have. Neville hadn’t defend himself properly. But he hadn’t defended her either.

Her lip wobbled a little uncertainly as she stalked through the corridors but by the time she’d gotten to the door of the Slytherin common room she had schooled her features into cold, slightly haughty neutrality and breezed inside like nothing had ever happened. What was she doing with herself? She cast her eyes to the sofas before the fire where her friends lounged — Theodore and Daphne reading one another’s tea leaves, Draco, Lucille, Blaise and Pansy playing cards, Gregory and Millie and Vincent deep in conversation. She caught Theodore’s eyes and felt her cheeks blaze as she hurried to her own room.

She lay down, staring at the lines of the ceiling, as much a mess as her head was. She told herself she didn’t need Neville or anyone else. Told herself she was being stupid, foolish — emotional. She wanted to hurl her bag at the wall but she held that feeling in, held it tight to her chest.

“Don’t be weak,” she spat at herself. “Don’t cry. Don’t you dare.”


	45. Ministry Messages

And so the days and weeks wore on. Monday morning, Aurora had managed to rope Gwen into partnering with her for Potions, and Robin switched to work with Leah MacMillan, who didn’t look happy about it. Neville pointedly ignored her, but she didn’t miss the glares from Hermione Granger, and Potter and Weasley. At least none of them said anything to her. Still she found herself wanting to scream at them from across the classroom.

Daphne, Millicent and Blaise were all rather frosty and she knew that she wouldn’t solve that without fixing things with Draco and Pansy — she just didn’t know how. Lucille didn’t speak to her at all, and seemed to enjoy the change in dynamics. She couldn’t shake her feeling that it was her fault, but neither of them would listen. The words I’m sorry were too difficult to say, but taking it in a roundabout way wasn’t working. It was all too frustrating. Aurora had to pretend it didn’t bother her, but it was so dreadfully difficult. Gwen and Robin were still fine company, but she missed her other friends something awful.

She didn’t know quite what she was supposed to do. She decided to study instead, hide up in the library or else down in her dormitory room when Gwen and Robin were away. Everyone else seemed to pick up on it. She was certain everyone was talking about her behind her back — but then, she thought, maybe that was the issue? Was she just thinking too much, to the point that she was pushing her friends away, like Theodore had suggested?

Forgetting about it was easier than dealing with it. Hogwarts without her friends was lonely, but she found other ways to distract herself.

A day in mid-November, Aurora was continuing her work on the ring she had obtained from her family’s vault last year. So far, all she had discerned was that it held some sort of memory — possibly multiple memories — within the shadowed stone. It had the ghosts of the past within it, likely of her ancestors, but she had little else to go on and the four silver snakes offered no help.

“We didn’t help make it,” Julius said, gemstone eye twinkling. “So we don’t know and we don’t care.”

“You are very helpful.”

Claudius hissed from around her neck. “We do not appreciate sarcasm, girl. Respect your ancestors.”

She rolled her eyes. “I do, never fear. But this bothers me.”

“Everything bothers you,” muttered Lyra, silver key form wriggling slightly on the bed. “Young people of your generation are so—”

There was a loud crack and Kreacher landed upon the bed, stifling Lyra’s next words. Aurora shrieked in surprise and leapt up, stuffing the ring in her pocket.

“Kreacher!” she cried. “What are you doing?”

“Kreacher came, Mistress.” He panted, hitting his head, and Aurora hurried to stop him.

Her heart was in her throat. “What happened? What is wrong?” She had asked Kreacher to give her regular reports on the Black estate, along with the upkeep of the houses, but he was due at the end of the month, not now, and he hadn’t given her so much as a warning.

“A message arrived in the family home,” He croaked. “It is addressed to the Lady of the House. It is from the Ministry.”

The warmth drained from her face. Kreacher held out the thick envelope, his fingers trembling. “This is not one message,” she said slowly, meeting his eyes. “Kreacher, what is this?”

“Ministry has been poking their noses in,” he snarled. “Mistress always said the Ministry didn’t know when to keep their noses out! But they’ve been sniffing about. Kreacher does not wants to worry Mistress, Kreacher spoke to Mistress Walburga’s painting, but Kreacher — Kreacher knows he musts shows Mistress Aurora!”

With great trepidation, Aurora took the heavy envelope from Kreacher and sank down onto the edge of her bed. There was a low squealing sound and she grimaced. “Kreacher, could you shuffle over for me? You’re sitting on an artefact.”

He leapt off the bed as though it were hot coals. “Kreacher did not realise!” he gasped, bowing lowly. “Please, forgive, Mistress—”

“You’re forgiven,” Aurora told him, waving a hand. “Lyra’s fine.”

“An artefact?” Lyra cried, rather indignant for a fake snake. “Is that all I am! I am precious! I am the key to this family!”

“I know, Lyra, but that is rather a mouthful.”

The snake shut up. Claudius hissed, as though amused. Aurora broke the seal on the back of the envelope and a whole bundle of letters floated out. She bent to snatch them all back up, glimpsing dates and numbers and signatures.

“Explain this to me, Kreacher,” she said as kindly as she could considering she was nearly shaking.

“The Ministry...” Kreacher swallowed. “Ministry of Magic has been asking for informations about Master Sirius — the blood traitor scum.”

She nodded, feeling cold. “Yes, I know who you mean.”

“Kreacher tells them Kreacher does not know and his Mistress doesn’t know, Kreacher knows Mistress would never consort with the likes of him.” She nodded again with a lump in her throat. “But they keeps asking. Says they needs to manage the House of Black if Lady Black isn’t there.”

“They know perfectly well where I am,” she snapped. “It’s on all the records, are they truly so inefficient?” That, she thought, or they simply wanted an excuse for an investigation. To take over. As if. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Kreacher.”

“And there is letters from the goblins, Mistress.” That chilled her. “They says they’ve been told to keep watch on the family vault, by the Ministry, because of the blood traitor but the goblins are smart, they dislike the Ministry either, they wants your permission. They sends a statement.” He pointed one long, crooked finger to a thick bundle of parchment. “This has all the family accounts they says. Kreacher knows how to handle goblins but Kreacher knows this is Mistress’ business, Kreacher hopes Mistress isn’t angry—”

“I’m not angry,” she said, clenching her fists. “Not at you anyway. These are all recent?”

Kreacher nodded. “The Gringotts letter came in last week, Mistress. The Ministry has sent many since Kreacher last speaks to Mistress, Kreacher had thought he should wait, but they is sending too much.”

“The Ministry is bothering the Noble House of Black?” Julius hissed.

“Yes.”

“Bah! The Noble House of Black does not bow to the Ministry. I say ignore them.”

“Duel the Minister,” Claudius suggested. “You must demonstrate power!”

“Unfortunately, I can’t do that,” she said, shaking her head. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Kreacher. Would you mind staying while I read over the documents and letters?”

“Kreacher will do anything to serve the House of Black,” he said, bowing low again.

“Good.” She picked up the statements and letters from Gringotts. “We’ll start with the accounts. I should have done this ages ago, really...” She grimaced. “I’m not sure where to start.”

“Kreacher has helped with the accounts for years, Mistress. Kreacher knows hows they works. Mistress needs to read first.”

Thankfully, as Aurora made notes on the parchment from her drawer while reading, nothing in the Gringotts statements seemed amiss. That was a relief — she had asked that they inform her if anyone came inquiring, but that everything appeared intact was good. Technically her father may have access to the Black family vault, as he was still a blood member of the family even if he had been disowned, but it seemed his hatred for his family ran deep enough that he wouldn’t even scrounge off them. Aside from that, Aurora had her own personal vault which was, of course, all accounted for. Her father did also have his own vault, which she could not access, but was displayed with the rest of the family finances. Nothing had gone in or out in twelve years. The vault of Bellatrix Lestrange was also displayed — as she could not access it, but it had to be accounted for somewhere.

The Ministry was trickier to deal with. They wanted permission to conduct an investigation and search of all the family properties, which Aurora immediately wanted to deny on the grounds that they had no evidence of her father’s presence there — indeed, all the evidence pointed to him hiding away in the highlands, removed from civilisation. It seemed to her that they did want to poke their noses in. While Aurora didn’t have an exact catalogue of all the possessions and artefacts scattered around her family’s estates, she knew there were many things the Ministry wouldn’t approve of, but she had no intentions of letting them remove them. She knew that they would put up a fight though, and that denying permission might be taken badly. Her letter had to be written carefully, so as to avoid coming off as hostile. Once upon a time, her family would have held honorary seats within the Minister’s Council and on the Wizengamot Legal Council, but those had been done away with decades ago when the Ministry had decided to modernise for a bit, and then contentedly return to its state of nonsense, so that all they had was their hereditary seat with the Legislating Assembly, though it wasn’t often called. That did not mean she didn’t have power, though, she reminded herself — she just had to find a different way of using it. The Black name meant something. She just had to ensure that it still did for long enough until she was able to properly deal with things.

It took her and Kreacher quite some time to go over all the paperwork and letters, not least because of the interjections from the four silver snakes in the room, who all believed the Minister should be beheaded for forgetting the power of the House of Black. Aurora wasn’t sure if they realised yet that this was the 1990s, and not the Middle Ages. She really could not do anything to execute Cornelius Fudge.

“Whenever anything comes from the Ministry or Gringotts,” Aurora told Kreacher sternly, once they had organised everything into piles to keep for reference and piles to be sent away, “you bring it to me immediately. I will organise for the post to be delivered to me personally rather than to Black Manor — it seems rather sly on the part of the Ministry, I must say. But I would have expected you to ensure this communication with me regardless.”

Kreacher seemed to wilt and Aurora winced as he hit himself on the head. “Kreacher is most sorry, Mistress. Kreacher never would seek to harm the House of Black, Kreacher knows he is a disgrace—”

“You’re no disgrace, Kreacher,” she sighed. “There’s no need to punish yourself like that, it’s done now. But just bear this in mind for the future. And have these—” she handed him the pile of half a dozen letters, all bound and with the Black family seal on the back “—owled to the correct addresses for me.”

“Kreacher will, Mistress,” he said, bowing low. “Thank you for your forgiveness, Mistress.”

He disappeared with a pop and Aurora lay back on her bed with a loud groan. Her head hurt and she still had a stack of homework to do this evening. Plus, she realised when she checked her watch, she was late for dinner.

Cursing, she scooped up the spare snakes and placed them back in their drawer, bound together, along with the ring. Then, in the drawer below, she put away all the documents she needed to keep with her, and locked the drawer. She would have to find a permanent charm or hex to protect it, but for now a simple lock was suitable, as she doubted Gwendolyn would go snooping about in her drawer. Then, Aurora tucked the necklace she was wearing into her robes, flattened her hair down, checked her reflection in the mirror, and hurried out of her room.

When she arrived in the Great Hall, most of the Slytherins were already seated, and she felt her cheeks blaze as she searched for a seat. Draco had Pansy on one side, Goyle on the other, and Blaise, Theodore and Lucille across from him. He glanced up when she entered but didn’t make room, and it stung. They hadn’t made up properly, and hadn’t exactly spoken much, but they still usually sat together. She usually sat with the others, too.

Aurora had to turn away, searching for another place, another familiar face. She caught Potter watching her from the Gryffindor table and wanted to scream until she lost her voice.

But she could not. She took in a deep breath, and went down the aisle until she found Gwendolyn sitting with Robin, Tracey Davis, and Clarissa Drought. The latter two appeared surprised by her arrival, and Gwendolyn uncomfortable, but surprisingly enough it was Robin who shifted over and made room for her. It spared her the embarrassment of asking and she smiled gratefully at him as she sat down.

“Chicken pie tonight, is it?” she asked briskly, trying to smile. “Excellent.”

Davis and Drought stared as she ladled food onto her plate, but she did her best to look as unhostile as possible. Shoulders relaxed, leaning back slightly, faint smile instead of resting bitch face. And gradually, they just started talking. It was surprisingly easy to eat in this company, so long as she didn’t look back along the table to where the others were all talking and laughing, completely at ease in each other’s company — while she, in her own idiocy and irritation and awful nature and stubborn pride, had been shut out. Had shut herself out, maybe.

And by Merlin, did it feel shit.

-*

The atmosphere in the common room remained frosty at best. Aurora did not know how to thaw it. She did her homework in the draughty corners of the library instead, not speaking to anyone. It was lonely, certainly, but she was also certain that if she had to posture in the common room, had to put on a front, had to deal with Pansy’s silent treatment, had to deal with Blaise’s judgment and Lucille’s haughtiness and Draco’s steadfast anger, she would lose her mind.

She was making her way back to the dungeons after finishing a long and arduous essay about the origins of written letters in the Eastern Mediterranean, thinking bitterly over everything that had happened in the past month. Somehow, her Slytherin victory had an unexpected peak before a stupidly steep decline. She couldn’t bring herself to apologise to Draco, even though she knew things wouldn’t fix themselves. Without fixing things with Draco, she could not possibly fix things with Pansy. And, in truth, she was so, so tired of it all. She was sick to death of everyone in this castle. She was sick most of all of Potter, who had taken her stupid decision to help him as a personal insult. She should have left him to break his neck, she thought bitterly, glaring at the stones below her. The Gryffindor team could all rot as far as she was concerned — as could their housemates.

“Miss Black.”

McGonagall’s voice rang through the air after her and Aurora had to stifle a groan. Just who she didn’t want to see — though in fairness, she didn’t really want to see anyone.

She turned, put on a polite mask, seeing the grey-hairedwitch hurrying along the corridor after her. She looked agitated, and her lips were twisted in an unamused glower. “Yes, Professor?”

“I’m glad I found you. We have been searching the castle.”

Her stomach plummeted. “Why? What happened?”

“Nothing — yet.” McGonagall winced, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You are needed in the Headmaster’s office. The Ministry is here.”

Cold washed over her. “When you say the Ministry...”

“Minister Fudge, his senior Undersecretary, and the Head of the Department Of Magical Law Enforcement.”

“And when you say I am needed...”

“Only for a word.”

“Has there been a development regarding Sirius Black?” she asked, cutting to the question, since she sensed McGonagall didn’t want to.

“No. That is precisely why you are needed. Professor Dumbledore has attempted to shield you from the investigation, but the Ministry has been in touch?”

“I replied,” she said tightly, “they have no right to bother me at school when they have no evidence of my involvement in my father’s escape.”

“And you are correct,” McGonagall said, tight-lipped. “Nevertheless, they have descended.” Like vultures, Aurora thought bitterly. Damn them. “Your head of house is already in the office.”

That would only make it worse for her. “Will you remain, too, Professor?” she had to ask, moving along the corridor with McGonagall. “Three representatives from the Ministry, three from Hogwarts?”

There was a moment of silence, penetrated by the squealing of some first year girls around the corner, before McGonagall said, “If that would be preferable for you, Miss Black.”

A faint smile touched her lips in reply. “Thank you, Professor.”

It was not long before they reached the gargoyle that guarded the entrance to Professor Dumbledore’s office. Aurora had had few causes to be here in the past, none of them particularly cheerful — she was not sure where this ranked. Definitely near the bottom. McGonagall said, “Chocolate frog,” and the gargoyle moved aside, revealing winding stone steps. Aurora could just imagine the Minister and his lackeys standing up there, great cats laying in wait for their prey.

She forced herself up the stairs. She had nothing to hide, after all — but the mere imposition was enough to unsettle her. She could not shake the feeling that something more might be amiss.

Dumbledore’s office, though, was as she had last seen it. The man himself smiled at Aurora’s entrance and held out a bowl of lemon drops to her, as if that would ease her. She declined politely, surveying the room, and was surprised to see more than one familiar face. Of course, she recognised Cornelius Fudge, but there beside him was a short, pink-clad woman she had met at the Parkinsons’ gala during summer. She wrangled her brain, trying to think before she caught the name — Umbridge, forename Dolores.

“Minister,” she said, with a polite but minimal incline of the head. “Senior Undersecretary.” She glanced at the tall, greying woman beside them, trying to think, recollect a name.

“This is Madam Amelia Bones,” Dumbledore said helpfully, as though sending her uncertainty.

“Naturally,” Aurora said, inclining her head again. “A relative of Susan Bones?” Madam Bones nodded. “We’re in the same year, I thought I recognised the name. Headmaster, might I lay my books and essay on your desk? I was just on my way back to the common room from the library, but I didn’t want to keep the Minister waiting.”

This seemed to endear Madam Bones to her somewhat, though Umbridge’s eyes were beady and suspicious, and Fudge seemed more agitated than anything else. “Of course, Aurora. An interesting topic?”

“Ancient Runes,” she supplied, putting the books down with care, and steadying her bound scroll of parchment on top. “The emergence of written letters in languages of the ancient Eastern Mediterranean. It’s fascinating, but certainly challenging — though I suppose that is Professor Babbling’s preferred method.”

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled, and, assured slightly, she turned back to the waiting group across the desk from her. She supposed she had better put her best foot forward. “How might I assist, Minister?”

“Sit down, Black,” Snape said boredly, before anyone else could reply. Hiding a scowl, Aurora looked to Dumbledore, and as the others all sat around the desk, so did she. McGonagall conjured a chair too, and sat beside her.

“Professor Dumbledore was telling us of your academic record,” Bones said. “You are a dedicated student?”

“Oh, yes,” she said. “I certainly do my best.”

“And a Slytherin?” Umbridge inquired. She had a slightly nasal, slightly simpering voice which now she heard it, Aurora wasn’t sure how she could ever forget.

“That’s correct.” It was rather obvious — from her badge to that fact that Snape was her Head of House — but she held her tongue. “Madam Undersecretary, I believe we have met before, have we not?” Umbridge’s eyebrows rose. “The Parkinson family’s summer gala?”

“Ah.” Her smile was so obviously fake, but the reminder of Aurora’s connections did seem to still some of the suspicion in her eyes. “Of course, I recall.”

“You are close to the Parkinsons?” Fudge asked, scrutinising.

“Their eldest daughter, Pansy, is a good friend of mine. As is,” she added, hoping he wouldn’t be upset by her bringing his name into it, but knowing it would steady Fudge somewhat, “Draco Malfoy. I believe you are familiar with his father. Lucius Malfoy.”

Fudge’s smile was strained. “Quite.”

“If we could get to the matter at hand,” Madam Bones cut in crisply, with a disapproving smile. “Miss Black, the Ministry did not want to have to bother you at your place of education. However, the situation surrounding Sirius Black is of major concern to the public, and with little development, we must now enquiry of you whether you have any idea where he may be.”

She said, clearly and honestly, “I do not.”

“You have no idea whatsoever?”

“Last I heard was Dufftown, and I read that in the Daily Prophet. I assure you, I am no more informed than the rest of the public. My father and I have no ties to one another beside the unfortunate coincidence of my birth.” She could have sworn Snape was amused by that. McGonagall shot him a look.

“Even so,” said Fudge, leaning forward, “you understand, the Ministry cannot be seen to be doing nothing.”

“I’m afraid I cannot help,” she reiterated. “I have no idea where my father is or where he has gone.”

“The Ministry asked for permission to search the Black estate,” Bones put in. “You refused that permission. Why?”

“There was no reasonable evidence,” she replied smoothly. “My father has not had access to the family estates for years, and I would rather not have my childhood memories intruded upon, especially when I cannot be physically present as a result of my education — which, as you know, is a requirement for such inspections even when there is evidence to warrant it. There are strong wards upon all our properties, my house elves are aware of the situation and monitoring it, and none have reported anything amiss. Likewise, I am in contact with the goblins at Gringotts, and not a knut has been removed from any of the vaults my father may have access to.”

“You are certain of this?”

“Yes,” she said tightly, “I can get ahold of the documents from Gringotts if you require proof — I have had no contact with him. I have offered him no assistance, nor has he sought any shelter, or any money from the family coffers.”

Madam Bones pursed her lips. “If you are certain there is nothing that you know, Miss Black, I cannot force out of you any information you do not possess. But I am sure you are aware of the public mood.”

“I am,” Aurora said, recalling the article about her. “I am aware of what people think of me because of my father, Madam Bones. I assure you, I have nothing but contempt for him and his actions. I would not assist him even if he did ask.”

“And your other family members?” Fudge asked, and she turned slowly to him, frowning. “You can think of no others in your family who may have extended their sympathies to Black?”

The question jolted her. “There are very few of us left,” she said, hearing the strain in her own voice and struggling to keep it under control. She felt like a wire, stretched too far, about to snap. “None of us have any sympathy for him, Minister.”

“Your father was not the only one of your family involved with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.”

She tensed, feeling like all the breath had been knocked from her, and said stiffly, “I am aware of that, Minister. However, if you are alluding to Bellatrix Lestrange, I trust that you do not intend to let her escape Azkaban prison, too?”

His cheeks flushed but Aurora couldn’t take the words back. “Madam Lestrange was also not the only other family member involved,” he reminded her. “Your father’s own brother, Regulus Black, was said to have taken the Dark Mark.”

“I doubt even my father is capable of receiving assistance from a dead man,” she said flatly, though her chest flared in irritation. Was this simply an excuse to tear at her family history? To point out all that she tried to ignore?

“While Regulus Black has been presumed dead for a number of years,” Fudge went on, “there was never a body discovered.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Minister, this is beginning to feel rather far-fetched.”

“If there is any possibility that Regulus Black is alive, having fled, it is highly likely that he would lend your father assistance.”

“And how might he do that?” Aurora asked. Her voice came out snappish and she tried not to wince. Umbridge gave her a curious look. “I repeat, none of the family’s funds or assets have been accessed. And my uncle has been dead for almost fourteen years. While leaving the service of the — of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.” Her words strained and she added, in a cool breath, “I appreciate that you want to do all that you can, Minister. If I knew anything I would tell you gladly but I do not. My family’s history will not solve this case.”

“Miss Black, you do not understand the seriousness of the situation.”

“You do not understand that I do not know my father’s whereabouts,” she replied, frustration beginning to simmer over. “You do not understand that I do not wish to have every inch of my family’s history scrutinised, when the history you are dredging up is from before I could even talk.”

“There are stirrings, Miss Black,” said Madam Bones, ignoring the sharp looks she received from Fudge and Umbridge. “Worrying whispers. We can not divulge the extent of these, but I implore you... Anything you know...”

“I will tell you,” she said, voice clipped. It was time to impress upon them. “But I am afraid that, at present, there is nothing to tell. I am Lady Black, head of my house and family.” She let the weight of those words sink in, ignoring the way they seemed to unsettle Dumbledore and McGonagall. She wasn’t above pulling rank, even if there wasn’t so much rank left to pull. “I do not appreciate the way this is being handled, but I understand your urgency. There is nothing more that I can say at this moment, though I wish I could help.”

In those words was the underlying: do not make this worse. Do not mess with the House of Black.

And Fudge nodded. He swallowed, then stood. “If that is all then, Miss — Lady Black.” She tried not to show her pleasure at the title. “The Ministry has much to attend to... Barty Crouch and his leave—” He cut himself off, glanced to Umbridge — whose eyes were stilled fixed, unsettling as beetles on her skin, on Aurora’s face — and then back again. “Well. Thank you for your time. And you, Dumbledore. Snape. McGonagall.”

The latter two gave curt nods, scarily similar, while Dumbledore offered Fudge a jovial smile. “Mind the step before the Floo,” he said merrily. “It has caused many the inadvertent stumble over the years.”

“Yes, yes.” Fudge shot her one last nervous look, and then slipped into the Floo, calling for the Ministry. Umbridge did the same, after a too-sweet smile thrown Aurora’s direction.

Only Madam Bones lingered. “I am sorry that we bothered you,” she said. “There is no reason to believe your involvement — but you must know that the case is of great worry to everyone—”

“Of course,” Aurora said as diplomatically as she could considering how her blood was boiling. “I would hope you find Sirius Black soon.”

Bones’ smile was tight. “Quite. Good day to you all. We may be in touch.”

Then she too, stepped into the fire, and was gone.

Aurora turned to Dumbledore, no longer quite so bothered about hiding her anger. “Did you know they were coming?” she asked sharply.

“I only received word half an hour beforehand. Had I had advance notice, I would have been sure to give you time to get your head round things, Aurora.” His eyes twinkled. “I trust you will forgive me if I do not refer to you as Lady Black.”

She rolled her eyes, ignoring Snape’s sneer. “Why did they think my family would help him?”

“I believe Cornelius is trying to find any theory he can cling to at the moment,” Dumbledore told her quietly. “He is not the only one.”

“I see.” It made sense. But other elements of their conversation had unsettled her too. The mention of her uncle, Regulus Black... Stirrings and whispers. “Do you believe the Ministry capable of catching him?”

Dumbledore’s eyes turned down. “I suppose,” he said slowly, “that, like all things, remains to be seen.”

She nodded. “If that is all, and you do not plan to interrogate me too, then I would like to return to my common room. I believe Marcus Flint has ordered a meeting of the Quidditch Team ahead of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff’s match tomorrow.”

“Very well,” Dumbledore told her. As she picked up her books and her essay, she could feel his penetrating stare still on her. “Professor McGonagall will escort you.”

McGonagall’s face darkened at the prospect of embarking on a journey into the dungeons, but she did not protest. Their walk down was silent, mainly, until they got past Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom and McGonagall said, “Miss Black, I hope you understand that we all only want to help you.”

She stared at her. “Help me how, exactly?”

“None of this can be easy for you,” she said, almost tentatively. “I have noticed your recent isolation in my classes. Your grades have slipped only slightly, but I would not wish for further disruption.” Aurora’s breath caught. She hadn’t noticed her grades being affected, but if they had, then she knew she had to repair that damage as soon as possible. “I believe you when you say that you do not know your father’s whereabouts. I do not believe you when you act unaffected by this affair.” She stared at the ground. “Professor Snape is not the most hospitable of teachers.” McGonagall sighed. “But my door is open to all my students. If you have an enquiry about your work, or require a place to sit and study that is not the library, then do see me.”

This felt absurd. She looked up at McGonagall. “Professor, I am completely fine.”

Her eyes glimmered. “If that is your belief.” They went down the stairs in silence. Aurora reached the common room door and turned.

“Thank you, Professor. I can go from here.”

McGonagall’s nod was curt, and she soon swept back up the staircase, out of sight and out of earshot as Aurora said the password to let herself in.

She had barely time to put her books down when Marcus Flint pounced on her.

“Where’ve you been, Black? I told you — we’re having a team meeting. You can’t just skive off, this is an important meeting. You’re lucky we let a girl on this team, your homework can’t be a distraction—”

“I was in Dumbledore’s office,” she snapped, glaring at Flint. Now she was back in her usual surroundings, the leash on her anger had loosened. “If you must know. I wasn’t skiving off, I was dealing with something, and I’m sure I can work out the scores for myself tomorrow afternoon. Even if I am the only girl on this team.” It was only after the words had left her that she realised the small crowd around them. Namely, the entire team plus half a dozen seventh years, and Pansy and Blaise sticking their heads up at the top. She didn’t dare meet Draco’s eyes. “Is there anything urgent I need to know?”

“Watch your tone, Black,” Flint said lowly.

“Or what, Flint?” She held his gaze. When he said nothing more, she turned. “I will be at the stands with you all tomorrow. That I can promise. If you’ll forgive me, I have some things to deal with.”

She didn’t look back over her shoulder.

She got halfway to her room when Pansy came to her side, scowling. “Yes?” Aurora asked brittly, then remembered she had invoked Pansy’s family’s name and probably ought to be a bit nicer. “Sorry.” She winced.

Pansy clicked her tongue. “Were you really with Professor Dumbledore?” Aurora nodded. “Why?”

“Cornelius Fudge.” Her lip curled. “He has been demanding audience with me.”

“Because of your father?”

Obviously, she thought. “Yes. The Ministry is... understandably concerned, but I have assured them I have had no contact with him.”

“Right.” Pansy raised her eyebrows. “Draco was worried when you didn’t show up for that meeting. He thought Potter might have gotten to you, or something.”

“Well, clearly,” Aurora said, “he thought wrong.”

Pansy made a sound of annoyance. “Will you stop that!”

She turned sharply to her. “Stop what?”

“Getting all... Cold.” Aurora raised her eyebrows. “I’m trying to tell you Draco’s worried about you.”

“Is he, now?”

“Obviously!” Pansy huffed. “Merlin, you are both being so — so stupid!”

“Excuse me?”

“You are!” Pansy’s cheeks were going pink. “Honestly, you’re both so stubborn. You’re miserable, Draco’s miserable, and I’m miserable being stuck in the middle of you both being miserable!”

Aurora felt heat rise to her cheeks. “You don’t seem very in the middle,” she muttered, and Pansy tutted.

“Well, all my attempts to mediate have ended with you trying to insult me.” Her cheeks got even hotter now. “I’m not getting into an argument, Aurora. It just needed to be said — you both need to work this out. Draco knows this too. You’re my two best friends.” She pursed her lips, and Aurora saw her eyes shining. Guilt washed over her. “Just sort it out, for all our sakes.”

And then she turned on her heel and strode down the corridor, leaving Aurora to stare after her, feeling worse than she already had.


	46. Incoming

Ravenclaw flattened Hufflepuff in their Quidditch Cup match at the end of the month, meaning Slytherin still had a pretty good chance of winning the cup — but the point difference in Ravenclaw’s favour meant that Aurora’s team had been bumped down to second.

“We can take Ravenclaw easy, though,” Flint said at dinner afterward, having gathered all the time at one end of the table for a chat. “They’ve got a new Seeker - Cho Chang. She’s good, but I reckon Malfoy or Black could beat her.”

Draco scowled at this, poking cooked carrots with his fork. “Cheer up,” Aurora told him as encouragingly as she could. He just glowered in response and she sighed. Cassius caught her eye and arched a quizzical brow but she just shook her head. “I know you can take Chang.”

“I know you know,” he said, but still didn’t seem to have much of an appetite.

They had... not quite reconciled, but were instead skirting around one another. Honestly, Aurora was getting rather bored of it. Neither was being outwardly hostile to the other, but things were stilted from the lack of communication — not that Aurora knew what she was supposed to communicate anyway. At least Pansy was a bit easier to talk to now — but she wasn’t Draco.

She had tried to keep out of Potter’s way, but it was difficult. He seemed determined to get in her way, especially after the Gryffindor Team lost their Quidditch appeal, and she wasn’t going to let him insult her without at least saying something back. Potter was now trying to perfect the art of muttering under his breath when she was around. Whether he was commenting on how she had gotten an A in Potions instead of an E, and therefore wasn’t ‘so great after all’ or boldly claiming in Care of Magical Creatures that she had cheated, backed up by Weasley saying she never would have beaten their golden boy otherwise, it soon got old and it grated on her enormously. She would lash out in response - ‘embarrassing, really, how obsessed with me you are’ and ‘don’t let that flobberworm get the better of you now, I think I see the snitch’.

He found any excuse he could to glare at her across the classroom. Theodore agreed with Aurora’s theory that he was embarrassed about what happened, and specifically that she had been the one to stop him breaking his neck, and so was taking it out on her, but Aurora also got the feeling that he’d just found an excuse to have a go at her, and was being egged on by Weasley; Granger, for her part, sat to the side and fretted, but didn’t actually do anything of note.

With the end of term coming up fast, Aurora put her efforts into schoolwork. Over the holidays, she knew there were many things she had to do — meeting with Kreacher to run their own inspection of the Black family properties, aided by Andromeda, as well as working on facing Dementors with Dora. Some nights though, she kept having awful dreams. Despite the Dementors’ distance from her, at the gates of the castle, the memory they had unlocked from her ran over and over again in her nightmares. Sometimes it was accompanied by the blurry movement of a woman whose face she could never recall in the mornings. But it was one she felt she ought to know.

“What do we have here, little blood traitor?”

“Sirius, they’re going to kill her—”

“...wonder if we can see the mud in her blood...”

“Marlene, no—”

“Go, Sirius, you have to go, get Aurora out of here—”

“—I love you—”

Phantom pain would greet her when she woke, burning in her heart. She never liked the final words from her father — they stuck in her head, made it hard to breathe, because she didn’t understand how they could be true. She didn’t want to believe that they were, because that gave her far too many questions.

She replayed her mother’s words in her head. They made her sick, and yet she couldn’t stop herself thinking of it. She had had a family, a massive one, but one by one they all died, one by one they all left her. Sometimes — a lot of the time — it was her father’s fault, and sometimes she just blamed the world. She counted the names in her head. Walburga. Orion, Regulus. Cygnus, Druella, Pollux, Irma. Melania. Arcturus. Lucretia, Ignatius.

Marlene McKinnon.

Then she counted the list of those still with her. Narcissa. Andromeda. Draco. Dora. It was too short and too painful to think of.

And she couldn’t help but feel, too, that Draco was slipping away. And that it was her fault for not knowing how to fix it.

One thing did cheer her up, if only a little. The promise of a Hogsmeade weekend at the end of term, just before the Christmas holidays. This year, unlike last, she would be going home to the Tonkses for Christmas and spending the two weeks there. While she didn’t expect it to feel normal, and was despite herself a little bit nervous, she had to admit it would be nice to have a Christmas with family. She hadn’t had one of those since she was eleven.

As such, she spent much of the week leading up to the end of term trying to decide on presents to get her friends and the Tonkses. They had to be good, especially because Dora had promised she would help Aurora learn how to deal with Dementors, and that was not something to be taken lightly. She’d have to pick up all the gifts in Hogsmeade, and intended to do a little bit of personal shopping too. The day before, she settled on a list of gifts to get, and clutched it tightly as she made her way down into the village with Gwendolyn and Theodore and Robin, who had been on and off bickering about the state of their dorm room all morning.

“So, we’ll meet at the Three Broomsticks at three o’clock?” Aurora said, taking charge as they all stood together. “That ought to give everyone time to buy gifts.”

They all nodded and split up. Theodore headed first to Honeydukes, Gwen and Robin in the direction of the lane of bookshops that hung off from the Main Street. Aurora grinned and headed towards Dervish and Banged. Her list to buy for wasn’t too long. She wasn’t really on good terms with Draco but still wanted to get him a present, as was tradition, and decided she ought to pick up something for Gwen, Pansy, Theodore and Robin too.

Dora was relatively easy to buy for. In addition to the abundance of chocolate she intended to get her at Honeydukes, she picked up some easy-attach patches for her favourite denim jacket — a couple Holyhead Harpies ones, a couple Weird Sisters ones, and one, regrettably, with a badger on it, just because she know Dora and Ted would get a laugh out of the idea of Aurora having to buy that — and a funny sort of device which played rock music if she turned the dial one way, and a strange, precarious mix of either swing or country if she turned it the other. Buying for Ted was considerably more difficult, and she thought she might have more luck picking out a scarf or hat at the clothing shop next door, though she did get him a sleek diary which could be folded small enough to fit in the smallest of pockets, as over the summer he was constantly complaining about setting notes down on tables or the tops of drawers and forgetting where he had put them.

Draco gave her trouble too, simply because she didn’t even know if they were giving each other Christmas presents that year. They were frosty at best, and prone to snapping at one another over tiny things. Neither had apologised and after her first attempt had gone so badly, Aurora didn’t want to be the one to try again. But custom did dictate that they got each other something. The soft leather Seeker gloves she got him would either go down really badly if he thought she was making a jab, or really well if he thought — correctly — that she was trying to remind him of her faith in his abilities.

Next was the clothing store, where she bought a matching hat and scarf set for Ted — light yellow and pale, soft grey — and a pretty set of silver drop earrings for Andromeda. She also eyed, for her own interests, a really lovely, deep red velvet cloak — but perhaps she could save that for the trip after Christmas.

For Gwendolyn and Theodore she went into a stationery and book shop, knowing the latter would appreciate a book as a safe option. Gwen was a bit trickier, but Aurora eventually settled on getting her a nice journal with a snake-skin cover, and then a book about Divination for Theodore.

The shopkeeper looked wary of Aurora as she approached and didn’t seem to believe she had the correct money for everything as she paid. He gave her a grudging smile and then frowned. “Don’t I recognise you?”

“No,” she said sharply, gathering Gwen’s gift into her bag and holding out her hand for her change. “Don’t think so.”

He didn’t look convinced as he handed over the seven sickles’ change, and he kept watching as she left the shop, quickly making her way through the Honeydukes store, setting aside sugar quills for Gwen, liquorice wands for Pansy and Theodore, chocolate frogs for Draco and Robin, and then a host of fancier chocolates and toffees for the Tonkses. She was torn between what else to get for Robin, if she should even get him anything, and was about to head towards Zonko’s when something ran in front of her path.

That great black dog. She frowned and pushed her bags further back on her arm, bending down to pat his head. “You’re still here, boy?” she asked, and the dog licked her hand in response. Gross. She pulled out a handkerchief to wipe her hand, but the dog barked loudly and wagged its tail. “What do you want? I haven’t got any food for you.”

The dog’s eyes looked wide and pleading. It raised a paw as if in greeting, then turned and seemed to point along a narrow street that led to the edge of the village and the forest. “What?” Aurora peered along the dark street, and a feeling of great foreboding swept over her. “What is it?”

The dog barked again, and tried walking away, but stopped when she didn’t follow. Confused, Aurora watched it trot back to her. “Hey,” she said quietly, scratching its neck, “What’s wrong, boy?”

It leapt forward and tore a Honeydukes bag from her arm, running back down the little steet.

“Hey!”

Aurora leapt up furiously and ran after the dog. This was why she preferred cats - dogs were mad, and crazy, and stole her Christmas presents. Bloody horrible things. So undignified.

“Come back here, boy! Come back!” She whistled, but that did her no good, and she had to keep running after the stupid thing into the forest before it finally stopped in a small clearing. Covered in a snowfall that seemed to stifle all sound, it felt quite isolated from the village. It occurred to Aurora then that there was no one else around, and she was quite alone with a feral dog. It was not one of her best moves.

In fact, it was positively stupid, and she would have kicked herself if she hadn’t been preoccupied trying to get her shopping bags back.

“Here, boy,” she said as commandingly as she could given her rising fear. “Give that back to me now, you’ve had your fun. There’s nothing in that for you.” The dog just seemed to grin and wag its tail. “Drop it.” Almost mockingly, then dog did so, and then took a few steps back, watching her with wide pale eyes. Eyes that, for a fleeting moment, she recognised. Her heart pounded. Those eyes were just like her grandmother’s eyes. Aurora edged forward nervously to take the bag back. She felt suddenly sick. She had to get out of there. Blood rushed in her ears.

“Good dog,” she said in a shrill voice as she closed her hand around the strap of the bag. “Don’t do that again.”

She had taken two steps back when there was a loud growl and all of a sudden, a pop, and there was not a dog before her but a ragged-looking man with long, matted black hair and mad grey eyes that were boring straight at her. She let out a cry of shock and dropped her bags, hurrying back. Her heart leapt into her throat — she could hardly think for the ice cold, numbing fury that spread through her at the sight of his face. The face she hated to know.

“You.”


End file.
